


Moral Obligations

by princesskay



Series: Between The Lines [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, BDSM, Blowjobs, Collars, Episode: s02e10 Naka-Choko, First Time, M/M, Punishment, Rimming, Spanking, bottom!Will and bottom!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal seduces Will after the murder of Randall Tier, but the relationship quickly evolves into a power struggle that remains firmly grounded between love and hate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They performed most of the dismembering within the walls of Hannibal's home, keeping more of Randall Tier's body than the parts they intended to display in homage. Will participated without hesitancy, all the while trying to remind himself that this was just a camouflage, an act to trap Hannibal. That if he hadn't been the one to kill Tier, Hannibal's precise, clinical division of the body could have ended the hunt right now.

But Will was complicit. Eager. Bloodthirsty? The thought made him shudder.

It was like watching water drip from a faucet, expecting and itching for the next droplet to fall, waiting for a steady flood of water to follow the hollow, rhythmic splashes. Randall Tier was only a measure of what Hannibal wanted out of him. Will had to steady himself, and physically push the words through his brain – _The flood will never come. I'll catch him first._

“Have you thought of where you'd like to memorialize him?” Hannibal asked, pausing over the stainless steel table where Tier's dismembered parts lay.

Will swallowed hard and forced his gaze to Hannibal's. He thought about Tier and what he'd done in life.

“It should mirror him.” Will replied, quietly, “A pedestal of his work.”

“He was a predator.”

Will nodded, “The Museum of Natural History. Do you remember the cave bear skeleton on display in the atrium?”

“Of course. How fitting.” Hannibal said.

Will leaned heavily against the table as Hannibal's blood-stained fingers plucked a knife from the table. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, revealing lean, veined forearms, covered now in another man's blood. Will blinked against invading thoughts, the idea of Hannibal dragging blood fingers across his face and Will opening his mouth to taste them.

Hannibal cut organs cleanly from the body, careful not to damage them with the razor sharp knife. Will was less graceful, hacking the the top half of the head away from the jaw and leaving the flesh shredded and dangling bloody from the cheeks. He knew what he planned to do and the chilling calm inside him rattled his sense of justice.

When the dismembering was complete, Hannibal washed his hands in the sink and motioned for Will to do the same. As Will scrubbed the drying blood from from his hands and fingernails, Hannibal packaged the parts.

“You should do it now before rigor mortis makes the parts stiff and difficult to display.” Hannibal said.

“You're not coming?” Will asked.

“No. As you said before, killing Randall was intimate. His commemoration should be the same.”

Will gazed down at the bag which now contained Tier's limbs and head. Panic swam behind his eyes. Not panic because killing and displaying Tier was the most depraved, ugly thing he could think of. Not because the blood was caked underneath his fingernails. Not because he could be caught while displaying the body parts.

Because he was losing himself in the game. Losing sight of the goal that saw Hannibal behind bars. Because he was enjoying the intimacy of this moment.

“I will not do this for you.” Hannibal said, putting a hand on Will's shoulder, “It's not mine to take.”

“I know.” Will murmured, hoarsely, “I don't want you to.”

“Does it terrify you?”

Will slowly turned his gaze to see Hannibal hovering at his side, his eyes like ink, inviting in their darkness.

“Only in the way theme parks terrify you if you've never experienced the first drop on a roller coaster before.” Will whispered, “After the fear passes, all you feel is the adrenaline.”

Hannibal's lips curled, “Good.” He patted Will's shoulder and pushed the bag to Will's hands, “When it's done, come back here. I'll be waiting with a glass of wine to toast.”

“It's late already.” Will observed, “Are you telling me to spend the night?”

Hannibal dipped his head, “I'm asking.”

 

~

 

The museum was utterly quiet as Will worked. The last security guard had left long ago, and Will held no concern for being discovered.

He surprised himself with his efficiency. His hands were steady and delicate with the parts, displaying the brutalized limbs with tenderness. Randall Tier was going to live forever. Not as the frightened, tormented boy he'd lived most of his life as, but as the predator he'd always known he could be.

Will stood back when it was done and offered up a brief smile.

_You should be thanking me._

He lingered, pacing around the displayed bear skeleton with it's knew decorations, critical of the job he had done. It could have been prettier, but then again, Randall Tier had not been one for beauty. It was fitting, and it was unique to Will. His design. Anyone who shared his gift would be able to see it; but no one else at the FBI lent empathy to field work. They would all be blind when they saw this display. After all, he was “the guy who didn't kill all those people.”

Will gathered his jacket and his bag and walked down the sidewalk to where he had parked a block away. He was calm as he drove, listening to classical on the radio. Panic behind his eyelids had abated. Steady hands, even heart beat, not even a dew of sweat on his brow. Terrifying, no; exhilarating, yes.

The lights burned warm and inviting from the front window of Hannibal's house. As Will parked, the thought of what the night further held wove a diverse path through his brain. The possibilities were endless. Predicting Hannibal was almost impossible, even though Will had come to understand him better than anyone else had ever managed to. He was, unpredictable even in his predictability.

A candle burnt subtle jasmine into the air, and Chopin played quietly in the background. Hannibal nursed a glass of red wine before the fireplace. A bottle sat half full on the counter, beside a clean glass.

Will didn't speak as he shed his coat and shoes. He poured out a glass of wine and crossed the room to the open chair near Hannibal's.

“You were gone for quite a bit.” Hannibal remarked.

“A commemoration deserves all the time it requires.” Will replied, taking a sip of the wine. The taste was sharp and sudden, like a bite at the back of his tongue. There was an immediate flare of heat in his chest.

“I'm certain we will soon be viewing in something quite less than a memorial service alongside the FBI.” Hannibal said, nostrils flaring over the edge of his wine glass.

“You sound excited by the prospect.”

“Aren't you?”

There was a pause as Will weighed the answer to the question, “There is a certain allure to fooling everyone.” He said, at last. That answer was bland enough.

Hannibal wasn't convinced, “What is it, then, that excites you the most about Randall's death?”

Will stared into the fire, taking a shallow sip of wine, “It felt good to kill him because of what he was.”

“A predator?”

“Yes. It felt right.”

“You think he deserved it. Because what he did was morally wrong?”

“Morally.” Will echoed, “Morality is tricky at best. What Randall did was _humanly_ wrong, down to the basis of our existence.”

“If taking a life isn't wrong because it goes against a standard of morality, what in your estimation is 'humanly' wrong?”

“He killed innocent people.” Will replied, “They didn't deserve it.”

“Who among us is innocent? If we are to speak in the terms of standard morality, we should all be condemned to death at some point.”

“There are degrees of morality.” Will disagreed, “A little white lie doesn't deserve the same punishment as murder. Not to me.”

“If it doesn't hurt anyone, it's not morally wrong.” Hannibal said, giving a brief smile, “That's living in a rose colored world, Will. All of our actions have consequences, even if we never see them.”

“What do you think is morally wrong?” Will challenged.

“There is no morality.” Hannibal said, tilting the wine glass to his lips. The light of the fire reflected cool indifference in his eyes, “There's only urges, and motivations. To argue morality is unavailing; pointless. The world isn't driven by good deeds and religious acts of Good Samaritans. It's driven by our own selfish desires and a need for fulfillment. If the entire world turned to true morality, happiness would soon evade us.”

Will's brow furrowed, “You're saying that everyone should just do what makes them feel good – even if it's immoral?”

“I'm saying we have our own standards of morality, and it will never be the same as someone else's. You felt good when you killed Randall Tier because you consider him evil. I felt good when I sent him to your home because I wondered if this exact scenario would occur. Randall felt good when he killed those people because he felt he was being true to himself. We all did what we felt was right. If right equals moral, then we are all paragons of ethicality.”

“Forget ethics, then.” Will said, “What about sanity? Most people would call Randall Tier insane. They would also agree he belonged in an institution, just as much for his sake as everyone else's.”

“Displaying a body on an animal's skeleton also falls in the meter of insane among the natural world.” Hannibal said, raising an eyebrow in Will's direction.

“And cannibalism?” Will replied, sharply.

“We defy the natural world.” Hannibal said, more pleased than upset by Will's ire, “We operate on the peripheral, in the shades of the spectrum the normal eye cannot see.”

“What do you see?”

“I see the beauty and art in the horror of life.” Hannibal smiled, his eyes growing distant, “Death happens every day, Will, but sometimes it's banality is elevated to a supreme level of distinction and beauty. That is my morality.”

“Sometimes? When people like us are involved?”

“There aren't people like us.” Hannibal's eyes refocused on Will, “There's just us.”

Will choked back a hasty response – an agreement. It sounded too good. Too right. _Just us._ Will didn't want to crave attention or affection, least of all from Hannibal. He just couldn't deny that surge of pleasure he'd felt when Hannibal had gazed upon Randall Tier's body displayed on his kitchen table. It had been a look of satisfaction, _pride._

Will jumped up from his chair, “Do you want some more wine?”

Hannibal glanced down at his nearly empty glass. He blinked momentarily, then grunted out a laugh, “Of course.”

Will marched to where the bottle sat on the table. Changing the subject, avoiding the obvious between them – he'd tried reaching past that instinctive need to protect himself when he set out to catch Hannibal. He'd demanded honesty of himself because Hannibal would see anything else as false. Perhaps he'd been too honest.

Will's hand shook as Hannibal walked up behind him. Will hadn't heard him rise with the din in his head. A hand touched his back, low on the spine and threatening to curl possessively around his waist. The warmth seeped through his shirt, branding into his skin. He wanted to pull away, but something more vigorous held him in place.

“You don't know how proud I am of you, Will.” Hannibal murmured.

Will could feel Hannibal's breath on the back of his neck. He gripped the neck of the wine bottle tight, attempting to control the shiver that worked up from the base of his spine.

“Proud?” Will asked, shivering.

“I've been whispering through the chrysalis, and looking for your true self in the things you won't allow yourself to confess or do. At last, I see results.”

Will turned slowly, acutely aware of the proximity of Hannibal's body. The edge of the table bit into his lower back as he came to face Hannibal. Their gazes met, inches apart.

Hannibal touched his cheek, a soft caress with the flat of his thumb that made Will's heart lurch in his chest. Hannibal's gaze penetrated to the back of his skull, straight through the feeble barriers and gray matter, past the flare of heat and the thought of need. Will was naked to that gaze, naked and unprepared.

“You've given yourself wholly to the instincts of the predator inside you.” Hannibal said, quiet and husky, “But I sense there is still a final barrier you have yet to cross. Something far more fragile, but no less instinctive.”

“And … And what is that?” Will whispered, haltingly.

“If I must say it aloud, it is only because you deny yourself something you've fantasized about for some time. Don't allow denial or fear to stop you, Will. It's always better to indulge.”

Will sucked in a breath through his nostrils as his lungs began to burn from holding back the spill of desire. Heat coursed through his veins, on a steady path southward; he could feel it begin to ache even as he tightened his grip on the reins of his control.

“I see you burn, Will.” Hannibal whispered, lifting his other hand to clutch Will's cheeks between his palms, “You've given yourself to the predator inside you; now give in to the prey.”

Will could feel his heavy breaths push against Hannibal's in the air between them. The tension rested there like a fragile web, waiting to break. Those tiny details converged like pieces of a puzzle, bringing the big picture together, a work of joining bodies, moist skin, tender caresses, and burning need almost tangible in the widening pupils of the man he had once sworn to kill.

Will pushed off from the table, throwing his weight against Hannibal in a last break for freedom from his walls. Their mouths clashed, his lips like fragile waves against the stones of Hannibal's bared teeth. Need burst open inside his chest, a rush of heat and violent desire that drove him moaning and clawing against Hannibal's chest. He surged forward hard, ignoring the bite of Hannibal's teeth and the taste of his own blood, pressing until he felt Hannibal push back against him. Then it was the sharp edge of the table against his back again, and his feet coming off the ground as Hannibal's hands groped along his thighs.

Will grasped at Hannibal's face, turning his jaw into the kiss to meet the snare of Hannibal's teeth with the flick of his tongue. Moisture spilled past their lips, saliva abundant between the rush of their tongues meeting sweet and slick. Will thrust forward, hands dragging down to grab onto Hannibal's suit jacket, trying to escape the trap between Hannibal's solid weight and the table. Hannibal pushed back again, a growl vibrating from his throat and against Will's tongue. This time, when Will's back hit the edge of the table, a flare of pain momentarily stole his strength.

As he gasped and blinked against the hot pain pulsing up his back, Hannibal spun him around and pushed him down against the table. His cheek smacked against the smooth, dark wood, skin hot and flushed against the cool surface. His fingers skated across the wood, failing to find purchase as Hannibal pinned him down with one hand on the back of his neck. The other hand reached underneath him, tugging at buttons and zippers.

Will gasped, going abruptly still as one firm yank and Hannibal's hand brought his pants down his knees. His sweaty palms slid against the table as he cast an anxious gaze over his shoulder. Hannibal loomed over him, eyes smoldering, lips set in determination.

“If you stop me now, I will release you.” Hannibal said, his hand loosening against Will's neck.

Will licked his lips convulsively, scrambling for a reply. His brain felt hollow except for the steady drum of desire. Not even an echo of objection. The seconds stretched on in silence. Will's mind churned in a sickening chase between repulsion and desire, and his body jerked along the lines of desires, dumbly following the command of need that hadn't been properly sated in far too long. His cock stood hard and aching against the cotton of his boxers, too stiff to ignore should he say no.

“Will?” Hannibal questioned, impatiently.

Will shook his head, driving his cheekbone into the wood, “No.”

Hannibal's hand began to retreat.

“Don't stop.” Will blurted, squeezing his eyes shut.

A few agonizing seconds passed before Hannibal reacted to those words. Will cracked his eyes open just in time to glimpse Hannibal's fingers curling around the back of his boxers. With a swift pull, the material departed his waist, catching briefly on his hard cock before pulling free and dropping to join his pants. Will moaned as his cock snapped free, slapping upright, rigid against his belly.

Cool air touched his skin; he could feel his vulnerability intimately. Hannibal's fingertips followed the rush of air, a light caress down his flank. It lingered all too briefly before departing completely. Will's eyes jarred open as Hannibal momentarily left him clinging to the table. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it across the table next to them, his movements controlled and precise. Will watched over his shoulder with wide eyes, another surge of need hitting him as Hannibal unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up again. His forearms rippled, and Will imagined Randall Tier's blood on them once again.

Hannibal sank down behind him, and Will had to crane his neck to see that he was on his knees. He grasped Will's ass cheeks softly, spreading them apart, laying him completely bare. Will drew in a shuddering gasp and almost shouted when Hannibal blew a stream of hot breath along the cleft. Tingles rose like a thousand needles prodding at Will's cock, the peak of arousal though Hannibal had barely touched him yet.

Will arched, moaning louder as the warm, wet touch of Hannibal's tongue flicked against his hole. It was brief, too brief, and Hannibal's tongue left him shuddering and eager for far too long before returning. Will whined, pushing back as Hannibal offered short, soft licks against his taut, quivering entrance. His squirming availed nothing more than Hannibal was willing to give, and at last, he lapsed against the table, letting himself go limp and submissive. Hannibal responded to this tactic, bringing his tongue fully across the cleft in three, long licks.

Will gasped, and his cock jerked stiff against his belly. His head was swimming with need, and he knew he was no longer in control. His desires directed his every move, Hannibal the rest. In that moment, he knew he would do whatever it took for Hannibal to take him completely tonight.

Hannibal's fingers kneaded across his buttocks, stretching the flesh open for the press of his tongue. He groaned low in his throat, and Will could feel the vibration of it into his core. His mouth sucked across the puckered opening, plumping and sensitizing the flesh, biting softly at it once it was flushed and pouting.

Will moaned, his whole body flushed hot and taut with need. Every little touch made him want to scream and break away from the table. But he stayed. He stayed as Hannibal drew his tongue in lavish circles across the tender skin. He stayed when Hannibal drew back, leaving him panting and eager, aching and ready for long, agonizing minutes. He stayed and was rewarded despite his impatient moaning and bucking when Hannibal's tongue stiffening and speared past the trembling ring of muscle that drew tight at one last attempted barrier to Hannibal's caresses.

Hannibal's touch lost a bit of it's grace as he plunged his tongue into Will's eager body. His hands tightened across Will's hips, rough and bruising. His mouth bore down, head bobbing rhythmically over Will's arched backside, working his tongue as deep as it could reach.

Will moaned, writhing against the table. He kept one foot firmly on the ground while he pulled his other leg up, knee catching on the edge of the table to hold himself as open as he could manage. Hannibal moved with him, tongue fucking in and out, driving Will into fevered thrusts against his face, cock swinging hard and untouched against dissatisfying air.

Will's head jerked up from the table, his mouth stretching open as Hannibal replaced his mouth with his fingers. Two fingers pushed past the relaxed opening and charted their way straight to Will's prostate, a sensitive, budding place unaccustomed to stimulation. The first few strokes against the swollen spot drew Will's body tight and trembling, the pleasure to it's peak, and Will knew he was done for. He wasn't nearly ready for the encounter to be over, but his body didn't seem to care. The pleasure raced a hot path through his core and up into his chest, throbbing faster, hotter, harder as Hannibal's fingers stroked swift, smooth circles against the sweet spot.

With a stuttered gasp, he climaxed without a single touch to his hard cock. His body clamped tight around Hannibal's fingers, but they continued to stroke as Will's orgasm swelled to it's pinnacle. Will bucked in hard, eager bursts against the table, his cock spilling thick, milky cum across the floor and down his stomach and shaft. The spasms lasted through several wet spurts, sapping all the strength from his body.

Hannibal carefully withdrew his fingers and caught Will around the waist as he sank weakly towards the floor. Will struggled momentarily as Hannibal pulled him around, but found it much easier and more satisfying to let his body sag against Hannibal's chest. His body trembled weakly, violated but completely satisfied.

Hannibal stroked his hair back from his face and pressed a soft kiss against his temple, “Is that what you wanted?”

Will swallowed hard. He kept his eyes closed as he nodded an affirmation.

“Good. It's what I've wanted to do to you for a long time.”

Will fought to keep his eyes shut. Maybe if he didn't see the aftermath, the satisfied glow in Hannibal's eyes, it wouldn't be quite so real.

“It surprises you that I've wanted you sexually?”

“A little.” Will rasped, “Especially after everything ….”

“It may also surprise you to know these desires and your incarceration are two separate drives.” Hannibal replied, “I must say, this one is preferable.”

“Me too.” Will whispered, “That was … amazing.”

Hannibal lips curved into a smile against his temple, “I consider it an art form.”

“Of course you would think so.”

Hannibal stepped away from the table, leaving Will to stand on his own and forcing Will's eyes open.

“Come.” Hannibal said, holding out a hand to Will.

“Where?” Will asked.

“To the bedroom, of course. Unless you have other plans.”

Will blinked, surprise momentarily keeping him from answering. Then, he rushed to reply, “No, I don't.”

He gazed at Hannibal's offered hand, the long slender fingers, the even and clean nails, the smooth palm which had so recently thrilled his skin. It was the most innocent of gestures, but as Will placed his hand in Hannibal's, he knew he was trading in his soul to the devil for one fleeting night of pleasure.

It wasn't enough to stop him. He curled his fingers tight around Hannibal's as Hannibal strode down to the hall to the bedroom. He grabbed at his jeans bunched around his ankles, numb and fumbling as a freshly defiled virgin.

The dark wood door of Hannibal's bedroom swung inward, giving Will his first glimpse of Hannibal's private quarters. The soft, golden glow of a candle burning on top of the chest of drawers tugged him inside. It was warm here, and smelled of mellow scents of honey and vanilla. The rich blue sheets were pulled taut on the bed, pillows lying neatly side by side.

“Were you expecting this?” Will whispered, voicing the idea as soon as it dawned upon his hazy brain.

Hannibal's hands snaked over his shoulders, fingers plying the buttons of his shirt open. Breath spilled warm and abundant down the back of Will's neck, followed by the brush of soft lips. Hannibal tasted his skin briefly as he tugged the shirt down Will's arms.

Will glanced away from the intimate setting of the bedroom as his shirt fell to the floor next to him. He shifted his legs to let his pants and boxers fall to his ankles, and stepped out of them without nudging from Hannibal.

“I predict nothing.” Hannibal said, slowly circling Will's naked body. His gaze drifted up and down in an almost critical manner, but Will had no urge to hide himself or peacock for approval. He simply stood still, flushing madly as the penetrative gaze settled on his groin, “I simply observe and draw conclusion from my astute observations.”

“What did you observe?” Will asked, breathlessly, “What did I do that made you think I would ever agree to this?”

“You don't like to be psychoanalyzed.” Hannibal murmured, coming to fully face Will. The backs of his fingers brushed along Will's jaw, and his hand slowly spread out to take Will's throat, “But for all your walls and feinting along the spectrum, I see you.”

Will lifted his chin, sucking in a hard breath through his nostrils as Hannibal's hand closed about his throat. There was the subtlest of threats in that grip, but tenderness veiled the predator looming behind Hannibal's dark eyes. Tenderness Will had never imagined he would feel.

His hands hung limp and useless by his sides as Hannibal leaned in to press a kiss to his mouth. There was no violence in this kiss like the first one, and Will had no desire to bare his teeth against it. He melted into the velvet caress of Hannibal's mouth, his hands finding the will to clutch at Hannibal's shirt. His grip tugged the shirt tails free of Hannibal's slacks, and yanked Hannibal's body forward against him. Their bodies crushed together, flush and sharing heat. Will could feel the prominent figure of Hannibal's erection low against his belly. His own cock, so recently satisfied, twitched to life. The fire kindled low inside him, and he gasped against Hannibal's mouth with the knowledge this night was far from over.

Hannibal's hand tightened around his throat, and the other darted up to catch the back of Will's head. His fingers laced through the curls at Will's nape, holding Will's head still as he deepened the kiss. Head tilting and bearing down, he pushed his tongue past Will's lips to take a quick but thorough tour of his mouth. Hannibal's mouth tasted like wine, a dizzying mixture of alcohol and sweet, sweet saliva. It tasted like danger, arousing danger.

When Hannibal drew back, Will sucked in a shuddering breath. His eyelids hung heavy as if drugged, and he followed like a docile lamb as Hannibal led him to the bed. Hannibal pulled the sheets back and swept a hand toward the mattress.

“Lie down.” He suggested.

Will sank to the sheets just as his trembling knees began to betray him. He lay back against the pillow, suppressing a moan at the softness of the mattress and the silky caress of the sheets against his naked skin.

Hannibal observed Will as he began to remove his clothing, his eyes narrowed and scintillating in the dim light of the single candle. He didn't speak, but his tongue moved slowly across his lips, taking three trips across the plush lower lip and up over the bow of the upper before he completed disrobing. Will squirmed against the sheets, eager and impatient. His hands twitched at his hip, edging toward his cock which pulsed with a growing erection.

Hannibal was down to his boxers. His cock lay trapped in the direction of his left hipbone, pinned under black elastic. Will could see the outline of it, the broad girth and full, bulging head, down to the center vein which surged with racing blood against the fabric.

“You want to touch yourself.” Hannibal observed, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Will bit at his lower lip, fighting a rebellious flare to do so.

“Don't.” Hannibal's murmur held his fist tight against his hip, inches from his growing cock, “You just climaxed a few minutes ago. It won't be nearly as pleasurable as you imagine.”

“I'm hard, aren't I?” Will countered, twisting lithely against the sheets.

He curled onto his stomach, pulling the pillow under his chest and arching his hips down into the mattress. His cock glided smoothly across the creamy sheets, giving him a thrill that made his whole body shudder.

Hannibal stripped out of his boxers quickly now, and climbed onto the bed like a prowling jungle cat. Will didn't try to strike a submissive pose as Hannibal crawled up behind him and pinned his neck down with a powerful hand. Will moaned, arching his hips up and spreading his knees across the sheets. His heart pounded like a stampede in his chest, terrified and exhilarated at the thought of provoking Hannibal.

Hannibal crowded up behind him, other hand clamping on Will's hip, cock swinging so close to Will's upraised ass that Will could feel the heat of it.

“I let you come so easily the first time.” Hannibal said, his voice on the edge of growl.

“Not this time?” Will panted, straining back toward Hannibal's body.

Hannibal's hand cracked across his flank, a sharp, stinging blow that sent Will down against the sheets, gasping in shock and a bit of pain.

“I'm not afraid to hurt you a little bit.” Hannibal murmured, his mouth hovering inches from Will's ear.

Will's mouth lay open and trembling, his eyes wide and unblinking. The sting of the strike worked through his skin and into his bloodstream, an accelerant to the hearty fire already stoking his erection.

Hannibal's mouth closed around his earlobe, suckling briefly before working down the side of his neck where the flesh screamed in sensitivity under the scrape of his teeth. Will writhed, his fingers sinking into the feather-stuffed pillow as Hannibal's mouth tracked a path down his neck, shoulder, and spine, leaving bite and suck marks wet with saliva in his wake. His hands smoothed down Will's ribs, feeling the expansion of his lungs and the tremble coursing just beneath the surface. He made it all the way down to Will's tailbone before he stopped, sucking attentively at the tender skin stretched over the nob of bone.

Will arched, casting a hasty gaze over his shoulder for Hannibal's response. He inched his legs open wider, offering – no begging – for Hannibal's mouth to touch him there again. Hannibal's eyes shifted upward, taking in Will's wanton expression. His tongue flicked out, devilish and all too brief. It wet the very top of the cleft, a tease.

“Please.” Will whispered, turning his face back into the pillow. He couldn't bring himself to look at Hannibal as he begged.

“You're not used to being touched in this way.” Hannibal remarked, his breath sweeping hot down the crack, “And that just makes you want it more.”

“Yes.” Will panted, arching his hips up tighter to Hannibal's mouth. His muscles burned in exertion, but vocal pleading didn't seem to be sufficient.

Hannibal's hands smooth down his hips and over his buttocks, fingers clamping down suddenly to knead the full mounds of flesh. Will moaned as the motion pulled him open, exposing the orifice Hannibal had recently pleasured. He was open and loose still, ready and willing for more than just tongue inside him.

Hannibal ducked his head, dragging his tongue generously across the soft pucker.

“Fuck.” Will's curse was muffled in the pillow. His whole body shivered, and his cock twitched taut, hard as a rock now.

“You want me to fuck you here?”

Will moaned louder and unintelligible. Hannibal followed his remark with another long, thorough stroke of his tongue. The flesh gleamed pink and relaxed, pleasing to his lavish gaze.

“Yes...” Will panted, “... want you … your cock in me.”

Hannibal's tongue slithered inside him, flicking along the inner walls and pressing deep. Will twisted, his body reacting to the intrusion even as he tried to hold himself still for more. Hannibal's tongue thrust into him for a few torturous moments before he withdrew and clamped his lips over the opening. His mouth suctioned tight, and it felt like he was pulling something out of Will – all his strength, all his resistance, all his hard-taught logic. Years of sheltering himself from others unintentionally abusing his empathy couldn't defend him from this complete owning of his needs and touch-starved body.

Hannibal drew back, kneeling over Will's spread out, trembling body with his hands stroking the back of Will's thighs, “I won't proceed with anything less than consent.”

“Yes,” Will moaned, “I'm saying yes, Hannibal. I'm consenting. What do you want, a signed confession?”

“That's not necessary.” Hannibal's mouth curved in a soft smile, “But you are my patient now, and I'd hate to be dragged into some kind of legal mess.”

“You won't be, trust me.” Will panted, casting a threatening gaze over his shoulder, “Now fuck me.”

Hannibal ducked his head, “You don't have to ask twice.”

He rose from the bed, but Will didn't have time to protest before he pulled lube and a condom from the drawer by the bed.

Will licked his lips anxiously as Hannibal returned. He knelt behind Will, tearing the condom open.

“Don't use that.” Will blurted, the thought spilling past his brain and into his speech before he could stop it.

Hannibal's eyebrows rose, “Are you certain? It's a messy clean up.”

“I'm sure.” Will said, licking at his dry lips, “Please.”

Hannibal paused for only a few moments before putting the condom aside. He took the lube instead. The plastic crack of the lid opening was loud in the silence, and Will shivered at the gleam of the clear liquid on Hannibal's fingers. His stomach curled with need as those fingers drew closer, brushing against his hole. The lube was cold for brief moments before the friction of skin and against skin burned through the temperature.

Hannibal wasted little time in easing his fingers inside, first one, then two, all the way to the knuckle. Will arched forward, keening low into the pillow. His body clamped tight, shuddering against the foreign sensation, the feeling of being stretched open in long, sweet strokes. He could feel himself opening, and it ached in the strangest, most erotic way.

“Good boy.” Hannibal hummed low, almost inaudible.

Will flushed hot at the quiet praise. He moaned and rolled his hips back against Hannibal's caress, blossoming under praise and eager to perform. Hannibal replied with a rumble of a groan, and the addition of a third finger. Will gasped, writhing in transfixed pleasure as Hannibal's fingers lined abreast inside him and tunneled to his core. The steady, drumming baseline of pleasure bolted to white-hot electricity inside him with the pressure of Hannibal's fingers merciless against his prostate. Will bit at his lower lip, grabbing large handfuls of the pillow in white-knuckled fists, fighting the ebbing and flowing arousal in a way he had never predicted he would.

 _You just came a few minutes ago..._ Hannibal's voice echoed in his head, though he contested the second conclusion that it wouldn't be as pleasurable as the first. He was hard and throbbing, about to come again, and somehow he knew that if he let go before Hannibal got his cock inside, Hannibal wouldn't be very pleased with him.

Will's eyes jolted open when Hannibal's fingers withdrew abruptly. He sagged against the pillow, pulling in ragged, gasping breaths. He could feel the sweat between his shoulder blades and across his hairline; he could feel every pulse and spark of eager need racing through his veins and nerve endings. Hannibal's deep, steady breathing kept him grounded in time, like a clock ticking away seconds to fulfillment.

A quick glance over his shoulder gave him the view of Hannibal's fist over his cock, lathering lube down the thick, dusky shaft. His belly was taut and quivering, bicep flexing and driving the caress. Moisture gathered at the back of Will's tongue, eager and aroused. He shifted his hips higher and pushed the pillow under them, knowing he'd need the support once Hannibal got inside him.

Hannibal's eyes darted up, catching Will's lingering gaze. Will jerked his gaze away, blushing and shy despite the far more flustering position he was already in, naked in Hannibal's bed and about to be fucked raw. Being caught staring was the least embarrassing part about the night, and yet Will found the direct acknowledgment of his willful participation blindingly humiliating.

_Not fond of eye contact are you?_

Tonight was no exception.

The bed shifted under Hannibal's weight as he prowled forward, one hand looped loosely around the base of his cock, the other light but powerful on Will's hip. A warning not to move. A reminder that he couldn't change his mind now.

The blunt head of Hannibal's cock was hot against him, rubbing and skidding briefly across the slick opening before finding it's way past the first clench of muscle. Will moaned, a sharp but quiet little gasp that understated the sensations racing through his body, stemming from their joining parts. The pressure registered through his whole body, part of him feeling only the pain, the rest drowning in pleasure.

With a few gentle thrusts, Hannibal was inside him, and Will wondered how it could have been so easy. He'd gone from undercover agent trying to gain the target's trust to the target of a sexual rendezvous with a killer so quickly he wasn't even sure how it had happened. Now, with Hannibal slowly fucking into him, he didn't have the mindset to question his decision making – not the mindset, nor the willpower.

Will's thighs trembled through the first several thrusts. They gave out on the tenth as Hannibal eased into a quicker pace that Will's body took with no argument. He collapsed to the pillow, and Hannibal followed him down, crowding in between Will's legs to press his hips flush against Will's ass. One hand supported him, braced beside Will's head, while the other followed the curve of Will's spine up to his neck and into his hair. Fingers laced through soft curls, pulling, not fierce but eager. Will moaned, head tilting back with the pull, back arching when Hannibal wasn't satisfied. His hand quickly moved on from Will's hair to his neck, snaking around the front, across Will's gulping Adam's apple, and clamping tight. He pulled Will back against him as he thrust, forcing Will's back to arch taut, ass forced up by the pillow, hands pawing into the mattress for balance as his world fell to dust except for their joined, thrusting bodies.

After several moments of blinding passion, Hannibal's rutting eased and he tilted his head down against Will's shoulder. His breath blasted hot and thick down Will's sweat lined spine, each gasped tinged by a groan.

“Oh ...” Hannibal grunted, thrusting languidly against Will.

Will could feel him trembling. The heat of his cock pressed into Will like a branding iron, though throbbing and alive with need. Will swallowed against the dryness of his throat, fingers curling around sections of the pillow stuffed beneath him. He waited on the verge there, wondering just how it would feel when Hannibal came.

Hannibal pulled out abruptly, tearing a moan from Will's lips as he was left empty and aching. He rolled pliantly with Hannibal's grasp and pull on his hips, turning Will onto his back. The pillow remained crushed under him as Hannibal mounted him again, fingers rough under Will's thighs to hold him open. His cock gleamed dusky red in the dim lighting, thick and pulsing with veins. He cut through the air between them and plunged against Will, penetrating him again with determination. Will's head threw back, eyes squeezing shut against the sudden deluge of pleasure. A groan twisted from his lips, driven to the surface by Hannibal's eager thrusts that pummeled him again and again.

Everything dulled except for the friction of skin against his skin. Every tiny caress fostered within him another surge of pleasure. Arousal jerked taut low in his belly. He could feel his cock laying erect against his stomach, flexing rhythmically as Hannibal drove them toward completion. His hands grabbed for support, and landed with a smack against Hannibal's shoulders, nails sinking down into skin and muscle.

Hannibal's grasp shifted under Will's hips, sliding him closer, and Will's eyes jerked open as Hannibal's mouth dove down against his neck. Hannibal's mouth crushed there under his jaw, moving down the tender curve of skin, suckling hard enough to make his throat burn. Will threw his arms around Hannibal's neck, abandoning the last lingering remnants of his resistance and doubt.

The more Hannibal touched him, the more lavish his caresses became, the hungrier Will's body became for it. He hadn't been touched this way in only God knew how long; so long it had became alien to him. He couldn't deny Hannibal's eager, doting ministrations when it felt so natural, so _right._

Hannibal's mouth kissed wetly along Will's jaw and up over his chin, lingering there for a few moments as their eyes met. Through the haze of pleasure, Will could see those dark, attentive eyes clearly. They devoured him, body and soul. Surrender; their lips crushed together in a mad rush for intimacy. Surrender, as their bodies broke under the weight and heat of pleasure.

Hannibal shuddered against him. His lips broke away from Will's, his head bending down into Will's shoulder as the spasms took him to the apex of orgasm, and languidly down the other side. Will gasped softly at the warm, wet burst of release pulsing inside him. As Hannibal settled against him, his hand snaked between their trembling, sweating bodies to curl tight around Will's cock.

Will's gasp sharpened, and he grabbed at Hannibal's shoulders. His cock pulsed sensitive and ready for climax. The pleasure was barely held at bay, more by his awe and focus on Hannibal than by unwillingness of his body. He was eager to come again, to be pulled apart by Hannibal's hands; he was ready as many times as Hannibal wished.

Hannibal slid down between Will's thighs, hand pumping Will's cock in quick, smooth pulls. His tongue smoothed across his lips, leaving them wet and gleaming as he bent towards the swollen head of Will's cock. Will gasped, his fingers scrambling across the sheets as Hannibal's mouth closed around him. Velveteen warmth sealed around the head of his cock and carefully spread down the shaft in one long, measured suck.

Will's back arched taut, lips sputtering for appropriate exclamation of pleasure. His fingers darted to Hannibal's hair, catching on the sweat-soaked strands at the nape and pulling Hannibal's face closer. Hannibal rose to his hands and knees over Will's body, one hand grasping the base of Will's cock as he pumped his mouth up and down the shaft.

Will struggled to keep his eyes open and watch, mesmerized by the slick motion of Hannibal's mouth and the arch of his body as he bent over Will's cock, but the pleasure quickly pulled him into throes of pleasure. His eyes slammed shut, body arching through a wave of tingles that signaled the end was coming soon. He grabbed at Hannibal's hair with both hands, pulling the wet suction of his mouth down faster and harder. The pleasure expanded like a balloon in his belly and chest, bursting suddenly, and releasing the mounting pleasure to find and ravage every part of him. He bucked against Hannibal's face, coming just as hard as the first time, gasping and moaning as Hannibal swallowed against him.

Will sank down against the sheets, trembling and weak.

Hannibal sat back on his heels, dragging the back of his hand across his wet, swollen lips. His hair was mussed across his forehead, and his eyes gleamed in wicked satisfaction. Will swallowed hard as the glow of pleasure eased, leaving him harshly naked and vulnerable under Hannibal's intense gaze. He could feel the flush creep readily up his cheeks and throat.

“Um ...” He stammered, sitting up and groping at the sheets for his clothing, “The museum will be opening soon; we'll probably be getting a call so-”

“Where do you think you're going?”

Hannibal's tone made him stop cold. He clenched his jaw against a pathetic tremble and forced himself to meet Hannibal's gaze.

“I asked you to stay.” Hannibal said, reaching out to take Will's hand, “And you agreed.”

“This was ...” Will looked away, trying to compress the bubbling panic in his chest.

“You think it was a mistake.” Hannibal finished for him.

“Yes, it probably was.” Will replied, lifting his chin, “Like you said, you're my doctor and I'm you're patient and-”

“Outside of that office, aren't we just friends?”

That gave Will pause. It sounded too easy, too good of an explanation.

“Friends with benefits? Doesn't that sound awfully cheap to you?” He asked, pulling his hand free of Hannibal's, “I'm not that easy, Dr. Lecter.”

“Don't call me that here.” Hannibal said, his tone darkening, “I experienced nothing cheap, and I don't think you are easy.”

Will struggled to form a reply, but ended in a frustrated sigh. He rose from the bed and searched the floor for his clothes. He gathered them in a wrinkled ball against his chest, “I should go.”

“Will.”

Will paused with his hand on the doorknob. He told himself to go, to never look back. Perhaps he could forgive himself for one night of weakness, one night of indulging his darkest fantasies. But he could never forgive himself if he stayed.

Gritting his teeth, he slowly turned to look at Hannibal one last time.

Hannibal offered him a thin smile, “Please, use my shower.”

Will let out a halting breath, “Right. Of course. Thank you.”

Clutching his clothes to his chest, he slipped out into the hallway. The aroma of the candle drifted from the living room, and a clock ticked dully from another room. The house felt suddenly small and trapped. He rushed down the hall to the bathroom, feeling as if the stag were biting at his heels.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal used the shower which adjoined to the bedroom. He didn't relax under the steady, warm stream as he typically did, instead rushing through the process of bathing in order to make it out to the living room before Will did.

He wasn't going to beg Will to stay. It was weak and foolish to do so. What he intended to do was more observation and psychology than wheedling – a tactic Will responded to much better.

He toweled off and dressed in silk pajama pants and a light robe before heading to the living room. The bottle of wine was open on the table, spots of semen drying on the floor. He cleaned up with little reaction to the freshly made memories linked to the release.

Sex was sex. He could easily abide fucking someone and letting them go without argument. What he felt with Will was something far deeper and more intimate. In fact, he could live with a new friendship absent of sex; he could live with any connection if only Will _stayed._

When he finished cleaning, he capped the wine and exchanged it with a fresh bottle of rose from the cooler. The pink went down gentler than the robust red he had served earlier. Should Will sit and discuss what had happened, perhaps the softer taste would soothe his determination.

Hannibal nursed a glass before the fire, listening to the sounds from the shower down the hall. He sat up straighter when the water stopped running. For long moments, he could hear bare footfalls. The grandfather clock ticked maddeningly loud from the corner. Then, Will opened the door and paced slowly down the hallway.

He halted just inside the living room. Hannibal lifted his chin and perused Will's dripping wet hair and the rumpled state of his clothing.

“Rushing off?” Hannibal asked, noting that Will had put his shoes back on.

“I probably should.” Will said, hesitantly.

His gaze played a match of tennis between the floor and Hannibal's precise gaze.

“Perhaps a nightcap, before go.” Hannibal suggested, lifting the glass of rose.

“That's probably not a good idea.” Will muttered, starting across the carpet at a determined gait.

“What exactly is it …” Hannibal asked, rising from his chair, “... that makes you want to run away from me now?”

“This is a bad idea, Hannibal.” Will said, cutting a hand through the air, “You and I – we don't mix like this. It's like trying to join two volatile chemicals. It might seem like good chemistry at first, but eventually it's going to explode. And when it does, it's going to leave a lot of damage, so ...” The strident tone of his voice faded off into a weak ramble, “I should just … I should just stop it right now and avoid all that ...”

“Sometimes a good thing comes out of disorder.” Hannibal said, quietly.

“And sometimes it all just turns to shit.”

“Will you be honest with yourself about it?” Hannibal asked.

“You want me to tell you that I enjoyed it, right?” Will asked, his frown deepening, “Is that what you want to hear?”

“I want to hear the truth.”

“I think we both know the answer.” Will grumbled, combing a hand roughly across his disheveled, wet hair, “Obviously, I … I liked it. But that's not the point.”

“What is?”

“That it's wrong.”

“It felt right to me.”

“What did you say? Every action has it's consequence, even if we can't see it?” Will said, “You don't see it right away, but I do. And for the record, I think you're wrong. Just because something feels right doesn't mean we have the moral obligation to follow through.”

“What about a human obligation? To yourself.” Hannibal suggested, approaching Will as he would a wounded animal, “At some time or another we must remember to service ourselves, not just the people around us. We must live with ourselves, our choices, our regrets.”

Will shuffled a step away as Hannibal approached, “I can live with it, if I know I'm doing the right thing.” He sighed, “And for me, what feels right and what is right are two different things. That's why I can't stay.”

“I cannot dissuade you.” Hannibal said, lowering his gaze. The sugary pink wine in his hand turned sour at the back of his tongue.

“You sound accepting of the fact.” Will said, lifting his chin.

“I must be. It's futile to continue arguing with you about it.” Hannibal said, taking a step back, “Go, then.”

Will turned to go, but he paused with his hand on the door knob.

“Or stay, if you would like.” Hannibal added, trying to conceal the desperate hope shuddering to life in his chest.

“I don't hate you anymore.” Will said, turning again to look at him, “But I'm not sure my feelings for you extend as far as … intimacy.”

“You want to be my friend again?” Hannibal asked, giving a wry chuckle.

“If you can't handle it being platonic, then we can go back to just being patient and psychiatrist.”

“I usually find the word platonic to be a thin veil for something entirely other.” Hannibal replied.

Will frowned.

“To answer your question, I can handle it.”

“Good.” Will said, jaw clenching in a taut smile, “I'm not interested in being your enemy again.”

“Revenge is foolhardy.” Hannibal replied, “Especially when it is about sex. You don't need to expect that sort of behavior from me.”

“Good.” Will repeated.

They stood there, gazing at each other for several long, terribly quiet moments. Hannibal could almost see the gap forming between them again, and his first instinct was to do something, anything to set things in motion to repair it. There were so many strings on Will that he could pull right now, so many vulnerabilities that he could exploit to get what he wanted. But perhaps that would be considered revenge too.

Suddenly, a shrill ringing cut through the silence between them. Will patted at his pockets and pulled his cellphone free of his jacket. He froze when he saw the caller ID.

“It's Jack.” He whispered.

Hannibal gave him a bare smile, “Had you forgotten what brought you here?”

Will licked his lips and cleared his throat before answering the phone.

“Hello? …. Hi, Jack, what's- … Wait, Randall? ...”

Hannibal watched Will's performance, one of an investigator shocked at finding out a suspect was dead. It was truly captivating, not to mention, believable.

“Okay, okay, I'll be right there. I'll call Hannibal. … Okay, Jack. Bye.”

He hung up, and let out a breath, “They found him.”

“Shall we go?” Hannibal asked.

“Yeah, um, you heard … I said I'd call you.”

“And you have. I'll go change.” Hannibal said, dipping his head.

He marched down the hall to his bedroom and dressed quickly. To be quite honest, he had nearly forgotten about Randall Tier as well. Will had always been a blind spot for him, but he didn't have the urge to fortify the weakness. It seemed that affect was still quite vital.

When he returned to the living room, Will was still standing by the door, as if paralyzed.

“We should drive separately, since you told Jack you would call me.” Hannibal suggested, “That is, unless you don't care if the FBI knows we are spending nights together.”

“No, separately is good.” Will agreed after a brief delay.

“We should go, then.” Hannibal motioned to the door.

Will turned and pulled the door open, allowing a gust of frigid, winter air to push past him. His gaze was distant, as if wrapped up in an internal struggle that wouldn't soon be resolved.

As they stepped out into the early morning chill, Hannibal touched Will's elbow.

“Anything you should tell me before we leave this conversation behind us for good?” He asked.

Will chewed at his inner cheek as they walked, “Nothing good.”

“Then tell me something bad.”

“I thought about killing you … when I killed Randall.” Will murmured, “But you don't seem to care.”

“We all have our fantasies.” Hannibal mused with a smile.

“And mine is about hurting you. That doesn't stop you from wanting to be … intimate with me?”

“No. In my estimation, it stokes the fires.” Hannibal replied, casting a cursory glance at Will.

“You're not worried someday I might pull a gun on you again?”

“No, I think we've put that behind us. The urges you're struggling with now are quite different in nature. It's not so much about literally killing me as it is about feeding a proclivity for violence and blood lust.”

Will was quiet at his side for several moments before replying, “That's what scares me.”

“It's nothing to be afraid of. For many people, it's perfectly natural, simply a scorned taboo of society.”

“Are you talking about incorporating violence into sex?” Will asked, stopping in his tracks now.

Hannibal pulled to a stop next to him and slowly drew his gaze over Will's wide-eyed, trembling expression.

“If it's what you want.” He said, “But we're just friends now, aren't we?”

“That's what I said.” Will nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Your decision isn't non-negotiable, Will. Humans change their minds frequently. You and I are no exception.”

“I'm not changing my mind.” Will snapped, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

“I'm simply stating it for future reference.”

“That's not necessary.” Will said, gruffly. He turned and marched across the snow-covered driveway to where his car was parked, “We should get going. Jack will want us on the scene immediately.”

Hannibal walked to his own car and got inside. He started the engine, but sat back and watched as Will got in his own car and turned out of the driveway.

He smiled, satisfied with the fact that Will was not quite as determined as he had been upon leaving the mental hospital. Future reference would most likely be necessary.

 

~

 

After spending two hours at the crime scene, the team went to Quantico to further discuss Randall Tier's death. The body parts wouldn't be entirely collected and brought in for examination for another several hours. Crime scene was still taking photos and going over the scene in the museum with a fine tooth comb. Will was relieved he didn't have to stand over the parts on the austere, metal slab and discuss the specifics of the murder. Displayed on the lab, Randall wouldn't look nearly as transformed and beautiful as he had upon the bear's skeleton.

Hannibal bowed out of the conversation early, citing work responsibilities. Will didn't look up as he left.

The clock was reaching toward ten a.m. when Price and Zeller left Jack's office to meet up with CSU in the lab.

“You looked exhausted.” Jack remarked.

Will scrubbed a hand over his face. His eyes were burning and exhaustion brimmed at the corners of his mind, but his body was wired, alert. Past the point of tired. He squinted, trying to recall how long it had been since he'd slept.

“I didn't sleep good.” He muttered.

“It looks like you didn't sleep at all.”

Will shrugged, “Too much to think about. If it's okay with you, I think I'll head back home for a little bit, try to catch a nap.”

“Take the rest of the day if you want.” Jack said, a frown tugging at his brows.

“Are you sure?”

“You looked at the scene, told me what you saw.” Jack replied, “For now, that's enough. You're no good to me sleep deprived.”

“You're worried about me, more than the investigation. That's new.” Will remarked, casual but acidic.

The jab rolled off Jack's shoulder, “If you can't function, it will affect the investigation.”

Will rose to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when Jack spoke again.

“Seriously, Will, I should ask. Are you okay?”

Will did a slow turn toward Jack, but didn't meet his gaze, “Fine. Just tired.”

“I'm asking a lot of you.” Jack said, “This business with 'baiting the fish'.”

“You've always asked a lot of me.” Will replied, “I'll come through. Don't worry. I'm completely invested in this one.”

“Will, I've done undercover work.” Jack said, rising from his chair and moving around the desk, “It wears you down, keeping secrets and lying about your intentions. It's a form of self-brainwashing.”

“You think I'm going to get lost in the role?” Will asked, his gaze snapping hastily to Jack's dark, concerned gaze.

“I'm just asking you to keep sight of the goal.” Jack said, softly, “I trust you, Will.”

“Good, because I'm going to come through.”

He slipped out of the office and marched through the halls of the FBI headquarters, head swimming like a half-sunk ship. His nerves felt raw, open. Perhaps it was just the lack of sleep, maybe he was losing himself to role. He had slept with Hannibal, the object of his investigation. The goal. What he'd do to make himself forget that part.

He drove home on autopilot, barely seeing the road. Disassociation while driving was dangerous, but he couldn't keep his mind focused on the path between work and his house that he knew so well. His thoughts were wrapped up in conflict that tugged between his selfish desires and a moral obligation, one that was firmly grounded in standard ethicality.

Hannibal's twisted logic didn't apply here, he reminded himself; but all he could remember was the way Hannibal had touched him and how good it felt to be with someone who seemed to understand his body and mind more than he did.

 

~

 

Will slept fitfully for most of the afternoon. The sunlight bouncing off the snow and gleaming through his window kept him from fully resting despite the pulled curtains and the sheets tugged over his head.

Finally, the dogs' insistent pawing and barking to be let out forced him from his bed. He let them out, took a shower to jar his mind and body from sleep, and prepared a cold sandwich that he ate without tasting.

For the rest of the afternoon, he sank down on the couch and watched TV mindlessly until evening shadows settled over the house. It was the latter end of seven when the doorbell rang. He was only mildly shocked to see Margot Verger at his doorstep, undisturbed when she invited herself in with a bottle of whiskey in hand.

Her suggestion that they sleep together was sudden, much more than the situation he had found himself in last night. Somehow, it was easier to say yes since she was a practical stranger to him, only a few hours of acquaintance and conversation between them.

Margot didn't really want to sleep with a man, that much was easy to tell. In a normal situation, he would be picking apart her motivations, but tonight his mind was malleable and apathetic. He convinced himself they were two wounded souls trying to help each other. Fucking her felt like helping, especially when she displayed true talent for getting him off despite being more attracted to her own sex.

Will's tired mind flashed to the night before as she touched him, vividly recalling quite a different set of hands caressing him. He blinked it away, only to have it return in full force when their bodies connected, hips grinding against each other. In his mind, a dark figure lingered in the shadows of the bedroom, watching, knowing. He almost halted the sex right there, but quickly decided smothering himself in this sudden intimacy was a better remedy.

Seeing her scars helped him give in. They were just alike in this way, though probably not in any other way. He focused on the puckered white lines of old wounds and the tender red marks of new ones as he rutted into her from behind, and kissed them on his way down between her legs. Here, she kicked him off, satisfied with intercourse, not interested in anything further. He complained briefly, wondering why he felt so guilty that he had experienced more pleasure tonight than she had. He didn't deserve it, that part was simple. All the reasons he didn't were beginning to stack up too enormous for him to analyze.

He watched her go just minutes after they had collapsed to the sheets. She dressed mechanically, her silence loud with friction against the dying echo of moans of ecstasy. He reached out a hand for her skin just as he pulled her shirt on, quickly withdrawing it when she gave no indication if she knew he secretly wanted her to stay.

As she put her shoes on, she regarded him briefly.

“Thanks.”

He pushed up onto his elbow as she turned to leave.

“I'm glad you came.” He said.

She didn't smile. Her eyes remained as sad and stoic as before as she turned and left the house. He fell back against the sheets and blew out a loud breath into the recurring emptiness of the room. The memories of his night with Hannibal came back in full force.

 

~

 

Whether subliminally or not, Hannibal had begun to regard Bedilia's “person suit” analogy as something of a concrete truth. It was quite simple, but no one had ever understood this aspect of his life before. He'd hardly acknowledged it himself, because he'd lived through the slow formation of the person suit since childhood.

In this way, he operated on several levels at once. Tonight, he put aside the complex reality beneath the person suit – the one with his sights trained on Will – in favor of his person suit's beautiful and alluring alternative. Alana Bloom, the perfect combination of aesthetic beauty and razor sharp intelligence if there ever was one.

Out of a petty rebuttal to Will's rejection, he showed Alana his theremin that evening. The theremin, being his favorite instrument, was an intimate part of himself he didn't display to most people.

The theremin he owned now was a relatively new purchase, and no one but him had ever composed on it before – until now. There was a measure of relief that came with the pleasure he drew from watching Alana's hand curve in and out through mid-air, drawing long, humming notes from the instrument. It set his mind away from Will, and reminded him how much he enjoyed Alana's company. Out of the various people who had serviced his desires over the years, she was only one who had gotten this close. He didn't ever think about hurting her or cooking her, as a healthy fraction of other casual partners had ended. She wasn't a pig. She'd sheltered herself from the banality, the selfishness, the brashness of the world. He hoped that did not change.

When she was asleep, he folded an arm under his head and gazed at the theremin still set up at the end of the bed. The slender, upright antennae gleamed in the dim light, quiet now without a touch to bring it alive.

Will was quite like the theremin, he thought. He required a special touch to compose with harmony and make the most beautiful of sounds. One wrong move could destroy the entire composition. The right move could bring a world to it's knees with the overwhelming beauty of a perfect score.

Composition was at a critical level. He had to tread carefully now if he ever meant to foster the fledgling killer within Will to his becoming. He could sense a storm brewing; he could see it behind the dusky blue of Will's eyes. Here, all of his work and nurturing would come to a head. No mistakes from here on out; pure dedication and care to Will's soft, malleable mind before it hardened against the idea of discarding standard morality. Will would sing at perfect pitch under the caress of Hannibal's skilled hand; and the world would bow before their union and the spill of blood.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

A day later, Will shoved down the coiling emotions of fear and apprehension to join Hannibal and Alana for dinner. A few texts from Jack, asking to confirm if he was okay forced Will to remember the seriousness of his mission. He tried to tell himself that sleeping with the object of their investigation was something he could recover from. He certainly couldn't forget it, but through fortitude and strength of will, perhaps he could forge on until they had reached their goal; and Hannibal would be out of his life forever.

Dinner was stilted, and Will silently wondered why Hannibal had chosen to invite Alana. It didn't bother him that Hannibal was now purposefully carrying on sexually with both of them. What bothered him was the final purpose of doing so. Hannibal wasn't the type of person who saw sex and dating as a vital part of life. He could do without, but now, as the investigation reached critical stages, he was taking double helpings.

Will kept up a strong face through dinner. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief as the dinner came to a close when Hannibal called him into the kitchen.

Will trailed behind Hannibal into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter as Hannibal loaded the dishwasher.

“Perhaps you will stay for a nightcap?” Hannibal asked, casting a warm smile at Will.

“Why don't you ask Alana to stay?”

The reply came out snappier than he had intended.

Hannibal straightened and pinned Will with a narrowed gaze, “Because, I want your company. Explicitly.”

Will drew his lower lip between his teeth. Hannibal wasn't mincing words tonight.

“I won't force you to stay, of course, but I think it would be wise to discuss the situation we found ourselves in the night before last.”

“I thought you said we knew where we stood.”

“That was for Alana's sake. She doesn't know we had sex, and I think it's best it remain that way.”

Will rubbed anxiously at the stubble along his jaw. He tried to imagine a scenario where he stayed and they didn't become sexually entangled again. His body eagerly recalled the pleasure-filled evening in Hannibal's bed and challenged his willpower with all it's might.

Hannibal continued to load the dishwasher, unperturbed by Will's lack of response. Will wondered if he even cared at all, if saying they “needed to talk” was just an excuse to see if he could seduce Will once more.

A soft rap on the doorjamb drew their attention to Alana.

“I think I'm going to head out, Hannibal.” She said, “I have a class tomorrow morning.”

“Of course.” He smiled, politely, “Good night.”

“'Night.” She said, offering a wan smile. She barely acknowledged Will before turning and heading for the front door. Will listened to her footsteps until the door opened and shut, and the house fell quiet once more.

“So, what will it be?” Hannibal asked.

“I'll stay for a minute.”

“Good.” Hannibal said, his smile widening.

Will stayed by the counter as Hannibal left the room to retrieve a bottle of wine from the cooler.

He didn't have to question why he agreed to stay. He knew he was stubborn and perhaps a bit angry; he wanted to prove he could spend the evening alone with Hannibal without reverting to unacceptable behavior.

When Hannibal returned, he was carrying a bottle of scotch instead of wine.

“I thought perhaps something stronger to dull the knife's edge of conversation.” He said, as he took two clean glasses from the cabinet, “We had enough wine at dinner.”

Will ignored the pandering.

 _How desperate, Dr. Lecter._ He thought, _You're trying to get me drunk._

He followed Hannibal into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. Hannibal popped the cork on the scotch and poured out two glasses. Will's eyes swept over the table, recalling the smell and grain of the wood beneath his face when Hannibal had bent him over there and made him come so hard.

“I appreciate your effort ...” Will said, his quiet tone intruding into the silence of the room, “But I think we talked about the situation clearly enough the night it happened.”

Hannibal was shrugging out of his jacket. He paused, the coat halfway down his arms, before resuming again. Will could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“You didn't seem as convinced as you make it sound.”

“I've had a few days to think about it.”

Hannibal tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and joined Will on the couch. They sat at nearly opposite ends, a full cushion between them. It didn't seem far enough.

“I've done what I can to mend what happened between us.” Hannibal said, his voice nearly a whisper, “I've asked for your forgiveness and-”

“It's not about me being accused of murder, or about you framing me. It's not about blood or revenge; it's not even about Abigail. There's a pretty thick line between the rest of life and a romantic relationship.”

“I don't often give much thought to romanticism.”

“Sexual, whatever you want to call it.” Will clarified, his tone edged with irritation, “I don't want to sleep with you again. That's the end of it.”

“Why not, if it has nothing to do with blood and revenge?”

Will observed Hannibal with a taut jaw. Hannibal gazed at him with a intensely focused, but shockingly honest expression. His tone held no sarcasm or subversion.

Will gritted his teeth for a few moments before working up a reply, “Because, I don't feel that way about you.”

“That's rather vague, Will.”

“I think it's clear enough, and it's my answer so you ought to respect it.”

Hannibal ducked his chin, directing his gaze to the scotch shifting at the bottom of his glass. He drew in a deep breath. “Yes, I suppose I ought to.”

“Here's a good question. Why do you feel so much the opposite?”

A frown flickered across Hannibal's brow. “Why do I want you?”

“If you want to put it that way.”

“I had thought after all this time, you might understand.” Hannibal murmured, “Our friendship, despite it's many pitfalls and flaws, has remained constant since we first began having our conversations. Despite what happened, you returned to therapy. There's a magnetism between us, Will. Even you can't deny it.”

Will pursed his lips. The angry and hurt part of himself wanted to lash out and deny it for the sake of proving Hannibal wrong. The part which had resigned itself to Hannibal's touch a day ago whispered that he felt it stronger now than ever.

“You mean no matter how many times we come back and beat each other bloody, we keep coming back for more … That magnetism?” He asked.

Hannibal gave a quiet chuckle, “I never said it wasn't painful at times.”

Will took a deep swallow of his scotch. It was nearly gone already. If Hannibal really was trying to get him drunk, he was certainly on his way to succeeding.

“What type of friendship would it be, if it wasn't tested from time to time?” Hannibal added.

“I don't know.” Will said, “What type of friendship is this?”

“I've always tried to avoid labels.”

“A label isn't the same as a definition. I just want to know how you define this … us ...”

Hannibal turned against the arm of the couch to fully face Will. He held his glass of scotch loosely on his knee with one hand and tugged his tie loose with the other. Getting comfortable before he set the traps.

Will regarded him with what he hoped was a guarded gaze.

“I've heard that question many times, from people I've known personally and from patients. There's a general desire in human beings to be needed and wanted, and to a degree, I feel that myself. Hardly ever does it extend to a personal relationship. I'm much more satisfied on my own than with someone else's presence taking up too much space in the room. I've never fully answered the question.”

“You're trying to tell me you don't really care about me.” Will said, feeling an unexpected surge of anger in his chest, “This is just some … some fling?”

“No, I'm trying to tell you just the opposite.”

Will's anger came to a sudden halt. He gripped his glass, bolstering himself against the wild drumming of his heart.

“I've never wanted someone the way I want you.” Hannibal said, leaning forward to close the space between them, “Too often I've taken what I wanted from a person and left them behind without a care for their feelings. Perhaps it's cold, but the decision to move on never bothered me. But, I must be brutally honest with you, Will; I couldn't abide the thought of doing the same to you.”

Will swallowed hard. His gaze snagged hard on Hannibal's, and Hannibal's eyes seemed to swallow him whole. Hannibal reached out and put a gentle hand on Will's knee; it could have been platonic except for the content of their discussion.

“For once, I see someone who understands me; someone who would accept it and not question it. I see someone who has the same views, the same … _urges_.”

Will forced himself to speak. He knew if he didn't speak now, he might never protest again.

“You must think I'm very easy, Dr. Lecter, falling for this same routine again. If you think our conversation got muddled by sex, you're wrong. I remember everything we said that night, and I remember you trying to convince me that what I did to Randall Tier was a good thing. That we were two of kind, or some bullshit.”

Hannibal's frown deepened. Will couldn't decide if it was anger or disappointment he saw in the darkening of his eyes. His hand withdrew ever so slowly, as if waiting for Will to add something positive to bring it racing back.

“It's very easy to get caught up in your world.” Will murmured, “It's free of blame and regret, and it's satisfying to all of the darkest urges you've tried to get rid of. But that doesn't make it right; it just means you're taking the easy way out, and I refuse to do that.”

He rose from the couch and set his nearly empty glass of scotch on the table. Hannibal followed him as he marched toward the door, where he had left his coat.

“Will, wait.”

His hand caught on Will's arm, and Will spun around, pulling his arm away as if burned.

“I'm asking you not to go.” Hannibal said, quietly, sincerely.

“What are you going to do to convince me?” Will asked, sharply, “Believe me when I say, at this point, it would have to be a lot.”

Hannibal clenched his jaw and took a step back. Only the tiniest shift on his face revealed the frustration boiling beneath the surface.

“You're not used to being told 'no', are you?” Will said, giving a bitter smile, “You have it all – wealth, status, charisma … looks. You could have anyone, but you're focusing on me. And I'm telling you no. I'm sure it stings, but you're a psychiatrist. Find a way to work past it because my answer isn't going to change.”

“You're right … on all points.” Hannibal said, quietly, “I should let you go home now.”

“I'd like that.”

Silence swelled between them for several tense moments. Will grabbed his coat and threw it over his shoulders. He reached for the doorknob.

“Will I see you for your appointment as usual?” Hannibal asked.

Will mulled it over for a few moments before nodding, “Yes.”

“Good.”

Will slipped out of the house before anything could stop him. He rushed to his car, feeling as if something dark was following him from the house.

 

~

 

A day to prepare for their next therapy session wasn't long enough for Will to bolster his resolve. He considered canceling the appointment, but stubbornly refused to admit he didn't trust himself to stay within the boundaries of a doctor and patient relationship. Besides that, he didn't want Hannibal to interpret an appointment cancellation as weakness.

He swung by his house after leaving Quantico and took a quick shower before driving to Baltimore. It was a moderately lengthy drive, and he took the time to give himself a pep talk. He had to guide the conversation in the right direction, and avoid discussing intimacy. The goal of returning to therapy with Hannibal had been to uncover all of Hannibal's dirty little secrets; but he had secrets of his own, and too many vulnerable sides to cover simultaneously.

Will arrived at Hannibal's office, unsure of himself, belly full of butterflies. He paced outside the door for a few gut-churning moments before forcing himself to knock.

Hannibal opened the door almost instantly. He was dressed in a dark brown suit with a burnt orange shirt and paisley tie. His hair was combed back impeccably, not a hair out of place. Even in the low lighting, Will could see the silvery glint of five o'clock shadow on his jaw.

“Will, please come in.” Hannibal said, warmly.

Will's mind gave a low groan. Seeing Hannibal shattered all his determination, all his vows to keep his eyes on the goal. In this moment, he wanted to tackle Hannibal to the floor and lose himself in pleasure.

Will drew in a deep breath and walked unsteadily to his chair. Hannibal followed close behind, and Will could sense his gaze drilling through the back of his skull.

They took their seats. Hannibal leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee. His face was set in a curious, but self-assured slant that made Will want to strangle him. Strangle him, then fuck him. No – no, nothing like that.

“Will, I'd like to discuss this blood lust we've talked about.” Hannibal said.

“That's okay, we can just skip small talk.” Will said, waving his hand.

Hannibal smiled, “This is therapy, Will. It's meant to discuss uncomfortable topics, and find the root of their existence in your mind.”

“I'm not a violent person.” Will said.

“No, we've already established that you derive enjoyment from hurting bad people. You have a moral justification, and you work in law enforcement. Most people are willing to overlook violence in someone if they work for the authorities because it fuels a just cause.”

“Before I met you, I never killed anyone. I never hurt anyone physically.”

“No, you lived those fantasies through other killers' eyes.”

Will pursed his lips, and averted his eyes from Hannibal's penetrating gaze.

“What do you want to know?” He murmured.

“When did you begin to enjoy these feelings of moral, poetic justice? Do you remember violence in your childhood?”

“Ah, yes, my childhood.” Will said, giving a gruff chuckle, “Low hanging fruit for a psychiatrist.”

“You never knew your mother.”

“No. And my father was always moving us around for work. I was constantly uprooted from the new lives we tried to establish whenever we settled down. I can't tell you how many different schools I attended.”

“No real connections.” Hannibal observed, “How was your connection with your father?”

“Distant, at times. Intimate at others. He was good with his hands, fixing things, figuring out how machines work. He taught me what I know, but when he wasn't teaching me, he didn't seem to know what to do.”

“Was he a violent person?”

Will shook his head, “Not really. He was willing to defend himself and what he considered important in life, but he was … detached, unemotional at times.”

“What kind of a disciplinarian was he?”

Will paused and lifted his head. Hannibal's expression was one of an objective therapist, concerned for his patient. Will wondered how long it had taken him to perfect that face.

“That's a bit clique, isn't it?” Will asked, “Expecting me to tell you my penchant for violence comes from too much spanking as a child?”

“Did it?”

Will laughed, “No. And I think that's bullshit psychiatry.”

Hannibal tilted his head, “Perhaps. I, myself, was never disciplined as a child. Do you think that fostered _my_ penchant for violence?”

“Maybe if someone had been there to stop you, you might not have turned out this way?” Will asked.

“We may never know.” Hannibal smiled, “One thing is for certain – our parents do have much to do with how we develop as a person, and to say otherwise is to ignore one of the largest factors that shapes how we perceive the world.”

“People aren't just a set of influences. We make our own choices.” Will said, “I don't accept that you turned out the way you did because your parents died when you were young, just as I don't accept that I am the way I am because my father was distant and mother nonexistent.”

Hannibal tipped his head, “I digress. If not your parents, then what? What is your first memory of enjoying violence?”

Will thought over the question for several moments. The conclusion made him squirm, but he knew if he wasn't honest, Hannibal would see straight through him.

“My father and I were living in Mississippi at the time, right along the river. He worked for a boat repairman in shop on the bayou. The town was small, really backwater. I was enrolled at this small elementary school not far from our house.”

“When was this?”

“I was … maybe eight or nine.”

“Go on.”

“There was this kid, Burt. Big fat kid. Mean, too. He pushed a lot of the other kids around.”

“Including you?”

“Sometimes. One day, I had to stay after school to finish some work. I had a habit of daydreaming during school and not getting my work done. The teacher stepped out. While she was gone, Burt and some of his friends came in. I ducked out of the room and watched as they took some of the teacher's things and left a snake they caught in her desk drawer. The next day when we all came to school, the teacher opened the drawer and screamed. She also realized that some of her stuff was missing. She grilled everyone about it, demanding to know who it was. I didn't say anything, but she must have seen me squirming. She took me aside after school and asked me if I knew anything. I finally broke down and told her yes. The next day, she sent me to the principle to tell him. He immediately called Burt in and while I stayed in the lobby, he took Burt into his office. When I looked through the window, I could see that he was spanking Burt with a wooden paddle.”

“How did it make you feel?” Hannibal asked.

“Good, because he was getting what he deserved.”

“Is that all?”

Will rubbed a hand over his face. The memory was still lodged in his brain as if it had happened only yesterday. A flush crawled up his neck as he recalled standing frozen outside the principal's office, watching the paddle hit Burt's fat ass over and over again.

“I'd never seen it before.” Will said in a whisper, “My father never hit me, and I'd never been in this kind of situation before.”

“You liked it?”

Will licked his lips convulsively, and gave a quick nod.

“Did you think about it after?”

“Yes, I … I tried to understand my reaction, but … I was too young to know what I was feeling. God, it's been forever ago. I'd almost forgotten about it.”

“What do you interpret from the experience now that you're older and no longer naïve?”

Will looked up to see Hannibal writing in his notebook.

“You're writing that down?” Will asked, his face growing hotter.

“Of course. I consider it a key part of your therapy.” Hannibal said, a smug smile ghosting across his lips, “Go on.”

“I was eight.” Will said, throwing up his hands, “Don't you find it a little disgusting to sexualize the situation?”

“Was it sexual?”

“No.” Will snapped, jumping up from his chair.

He paced away from Hannibal, raking a hand through his hair and wrapping his fist tight around the small hairs at his nape.

“Will, I'm not trying to humiliate you.” Hannibal said, “Therapy is about honest answers, objective conclusions, and treatment that works. It doesn't work if you can't be honest with yourself, or if you cannot accept your own feelings and urges as they are.”

“I don't accept that as an eight year old I was turned on by a little, fat bully being spanked.” Will said, turning to glare at Hannibal, “That was your conclusion, not mine.”

“I asked you for first memory of enjoying violence, and you told me this story about the bully, Burt. I find that to be completely objective.”

They gazed at each other for several heated moments before Hannibal motioned to Will's empty chair, “Please, sit back down.”

Will grumbled, but reclaimed is seat.

“Children are far more aware of their likes and dislikes because their judgment is not clouded by other people's opinions or societal acceptance of certain behaviors.” Hannibal said, setting his notebook and pencil aside. He leaned forward and caught Will's gaze, “I want you to ignore other people's judgments, including mine, and any taboos society might have on what you consider pleasurable. Just consider it for a moment.”

Will closed his eyes, briefly, and let out a slow breath. Through his mind's eye, he could still see into the principal's office. He could see Burt leaned over the desk, wailing.

_That's right, scream like the little baby you are._

Will's eyes jolted open.

“What do you see?” Hannibal asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Will groused, “This isn't working. Can we discuss something else?”

“I have an idea. Perhaps we could bring this session into the present.” Hannibal said, rising from his chair.

Will looked up slowly as Hannibal approached him. He leaned back as far as he could, not sure what he was expecting, but defensive all the same.

Instead, Hannibal simply motioned for him to get up, “Come here. Face me.”

Will hesitated, but slowly rose to his feet. They stood nearly toe-to-toe, only a few inches of space between them.

“Hit me.” Hannibal said.

“Wh-what?”

“I said, hit me.”

“Why?” Will demanded.

“I want you to hit me, and then I want you to tell me how it makes you feel.”

“No, that's … that's stupid, I'm not-”

Hannibal grabbed Will's wrist and lifted his arm, holding Will's hand within inches of his face. He worked Will's fingers loose with the other hand, and smacked his palm gently, “Open handed. It won't hurt me very badly. I just want to see your reaction.”

Will swallowed hard.

“You don't have much of poker face, Will.” Hannibal said, smiling softly, “I can tell you want to.”

Will pulled his wrist free of Hannibal's grip.

“Okay.” He said, rolling his shoulders to loosen them, “Okay, fine.”

Hannibal lifted his chin, leaving his cheek entirely vulnerable.

Will bit at his lower lip. This was the moment to flake. If he stood here staring dumbly at Hannibal's jaw much longer, the desire coiling low in his belly was going to become painfully obvious.

Will cocked his hand back. He drew in a deep breath and swung, letting his wrist slap loose when his palm connected with Hannibal's cheek. There was a loud, satisfying crack, and Hannibal took a slight step backwards. His cheek flushed pink in the form of a hand print.

Will yanked his hand back.

He began to object, “That was too hard-”

Hannibal chuckled, “Believe me, I've experienced much worse. It only stings a bit.”

Will pursed his lips hard as Hannibal turned and walked back to chair. The desire that had rested at the fringes of his mind most of the night attacked with sudden, devastating force. His palm stung lightly, just enough to make him relive the slap every few seconds. He could hear the dull thud of his heartbeat resonating through his head, and most damning of all, his cock twitched and began to ache.

Will sat down heavily. He tried to discreetly adjust his quickly growing erection, but Hannibal's eyes were all over him.

“How was it?” He asked.

Will hid his eyes with a hand over his forehead. His face was burning hot, and his belly thumped warmly with need.

“It was … good.” He whispered, hoarsely.

“Does it arouse you?”

Will glanced up at Hannibal helplessly, a quiet plea for mercy. He didn't want to admit he was turned on; it was the same as admitting he wanted back in Hannibal's bed, only a day after saying they were only ever going to be friends.

“It's not something to be embarrassed of.” Hannibal said, “In fact, it's perfectly normal in healthy doses.”

“We're not the type of people to stick to healthy doses.” Will ground out.

“No.” Hannibal said, a tiny smile touching his lips. He glanced at his watch, “I think we've covered enough for tonight.”

“I agree.” Will said.

Hannibal walked him to the door, standing just close enough for Will to briefly catch the scent of his cologne. He bit his lip, and put a muzzle on his desires.

“Our hour as doctor and patient is over.” Hannibal said, put a hand on Will's elbow, “I'm addressing you as a friend now.”

Will paused at the door, his fingers loose against the brass handle. He should have been holding on tight and insisting it was time for him to go.

“As your therapist, I'm paid to see sides of you the world knows nothing about.” Hannibal said, “I'm paid to offer my conclusions and options for treatment. But if I am to solely function as your therapist, I cannot help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's nothing wrong with you, Will.” Hannibal said, shifting closer. He reached up to touch Will's face, his thumb stroking across the cheekbone, “These are healthy desires, ones that deserve to be explored. I can't help you as your therapist, but I can offer you more than treatment as a friend.”

Will began to shake his head head, but Hannibal caught his face in both hands. Will squirmed for only a moment before relaxing into the strong, but tender grasp. Their eyes met over the heavy breaths that mingled in the air between them.

Paralyzed, Will offered no fight as Hannibal leaned forward to press his lips over Will's. The first kiss was tentative and brief, a suggestion, and then, a request for permission. Hannibal's hands slid from Will's cheeks and down to his neck, resting loosely enough to let Will escape if he tried. He pulled back an inch and gazed into Will's wide, blinking eyes, saying nothing aloud, but speaking volumes.

Will surged forward, crushing his lips against Hannibal's. He delved his fingers into Hannibal's hair, tugging his head back and to the side as he took control the kiss. Hannibal complied, letting himself be pulled around and shoved against the wall. His hands pawed along Will's throat and chest, and down to his stomach, where his fingers caught on Will's belt buckle.

Will groaned, sinking his teeth harshly into Hannibal's lips. He pushed forward harder, pinning Hannibal against the wall, and all but shoving his erection into Hannibal's hands. Hannibal worked Will's belt free as their mouths joined in a deep, messy kiss. With the zipper down, he shoved his hand into Will's pants and wrapped his fingers around Will's cock with only the material of his boxers between them.

“Oh fuck ...” Will moaned, tearing his mouth away from Hannibal's.

He panted a moan as Hannibal stroked his cock in long, powerful pulls. Will gripped Hannibal's hair tighter and yanked his head back. Hannibal groaned, stretching his neck back in compliance to Will's pulling, leaving his throat vulnerable. Will sank his mouth and nose into the exposed skin, biting and licking his way to Hannibal's earlobe.

“I want to fuck you.” He growled against Hannibal's ear.

Hannibal paused for mere seconds. His throat worked in a thick swallow before he gave a soft whimper and nod.

“Right over there.” Will added, glancing over his shoulder at Hannibal's desk.

Hannibal followed his gaze. His eyelashes beat rapidly against his flushed cheeks, and he gave another halting nod.

“You'll let me?” Will asked, not entirely convinced this was real.

Hannibal's tongue darted across his lips. Another nod.

“Yes.” He said, in a raspy whisper.

Will took step back and pushed Hannibal down, forcing him to his knees. Hannibal went without compliant. His hands rested on Will's thighs, possessive but not commanding.

“Push them down.” Will said, nodding to his pants.

Hannibal grabbed onto the waistbands of Will's pants and boxers, and pulled both garments down in one swift tug. Will's cock came free, standing hard and dusky in full arousal. Will looped his hand around the base and directed the head against Hannibal's cheek. The soft scratch of his stubble was enough to make Will groan aloud. He grabbed Hannibal's hair at his crown and forced his head back. Hannibal opened his mouth eagerly as Will shoved forward, sinking his cock past Hannibal's lips and down against the velvet stroke of his tongue.

“Oh my god.” Will moaned.

He braced himself against the wall as a tremble shook through his legs and threatened to bring him down. Hannibal's mouth drew taut around him, sucking down in eager swallows. His hands grappled along Will's thighs before settling on his hips, dragging Will into shallow, steady rhythm against his mouth. The tiny moans that vibrated from his throat worked their way into Will's cock, setting a new fire in Will's belly.

Hannibal sucked him for several moments, before pulling back to his head. He grabbed onto the base, holding Will steady as he lapped at the head and around the rim, and finally down the shaft, following the central vein that pulsed thick and purple with pumping blood and need.

“Oh … oh.” Will whined. He rose on his toes as Hannibal lapped lower and lower, all the way down to his balls. Pushing Will's cock up against his belly, Hannibal licked all over Will's balls before sinking down to take one in his mouth.

“Oh fuck!” Will cried. Pleasure burst across his nerve-endings, and his entire core ached with the desire to come. As Hannibal suckled his balls, he could feel himself growing taut and the waves of pleasure beginning to coarse over him.

“Oh, god, stop.” Will moaned.

He drew back suddenly, pulling himself free of Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal's jaw lurched forward, lips open and searching for Will's cock. He was so fucking hungry for it; when Will realized that, he had never felt so powerful.

“Get up.” Will said, taking a faltering step back.

Hannibal rose to his feet, regarding Will with a needy gaze. His hair was mussed now, and his suit looked ridiculous with his cock pressing huge and rigid against the front of his pants.

“I said I was going to fuck you over that desk, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Go over there and undress.” Will ordered.

He was surprised and pleased that his voice maintained a commanding tone despite the tremor gripping his whole body. The entire situation was surreal, and he wondered if he might wake up on his couch back in Wolftrap any moment now.

Hannibal walked to the desk without argument. He took off his coat and laid it over the back of the chair. His hands were steady as he removed his vest, tie, and pants; no sign that he was overwhelmed by the pleasure and need as Will was.

Will kicked his pants off his ankles and stripped out of his shirt. He lifted his chin and let the powerful idea of dominating Hannibal course like a drug through his veins.

He crossed the room just as Hannibal was removing his shirt and slid up behind Hannibal. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal's waist and thrust against him, driving his cock between Hannibal's ass cheeks. Hannibal braced himself on the edge of the desk as Will pushed against him. He arched his ass back against Will and moaned, a breathy, horny little moan that nearly pushed Will over the edge.

Will pushed his nose against Hannibal's neck and drew his lips back from his teeth to taste the soft, warm skin where life blood pumped just beneath the surface. He slid one hand down to grasp Hannibal's cock and stroked it softly as he continued to rut against him. Hannibal's hips jerked softly when Will touched him.

“Will … oh god ...”

Will growled low, the sound of his name coming from Hannibal's lips fueling the need that raced through his veins. He grabbed onto the back of Hannibal's neck and shoved him down against the desk. Hannibal grunted, his hands skidding across the smooth surface as Will pinned him down. His eyes darted over his shoulder, watching Will's movements with desire and curiosity.

“A little bit of saliva will do.” He said, his voice husky and thick.

“I said I want to fuck you, not hurt you.”

“You won't hurt me.” Hannibal said, “No more than I can take.”

Will regarded him distrustfully for a few moments before deciding he didn't have any better options. He bent down and swallowed a few times before letting the gathered spit stream from his lips and down Hannibal's cleft.

Hannibal moaned softly and rolled his hips back eagerly. Will hesitated only briefly before dragging his thumb across the moist opening. He could hear Hannibal's breathing hitch as he rubbed at the puckered hole. The muscle clenched at first to his touch, but as he slowly worked his fingers inside, the grip relaxed to an arousing squeeze.

“Oh ...” Hannibal uttered a quiet moan.

His hips rose and trembled, all but begging Will to do more. Will pushed his finger in to the knuckle, mesmerized. His cock flexed against his belly as he pumped his finger in and out. He moved his other hand to his erection, squeezing the base to hold the coiled pleasure at bay while he fingered Hannibal.

“Oh, yes.” Hannibal grunted. His shoulders drew tight, bunching rippling muscle across his back and deepening the delicious curve of his spine. His ass arched back against the pressure of Will's hand, taking each stroke with a shudder and a moan.

Will paused to add more saliva, letting the moisture run down his fingers. He pressed two fingers against the flushed opening and pressed them inside. Hannibal gave a breathy gasp and arched slowly and stiffly across the desk as Will's fingers stretched him open.

“God, yes.” He groaned, pressing his forehead against the desk, “Yes, Will ...”

Will pumped his fingers a bit harder, biting hard at his lower lip as he felt the muscles give way to his touch.

“Yes, Will, faster now.” Hannibal panted, rolling his hips in a taut, arousing circle.

Will let go of his cock and spread his hand over Hannibal's lower back. Pinning Hannibal to the desk, he pumped his hand a bit harder, delving through moisture and the velvet clench of Hannibal's hole. He crooked his fingers as he pushed up against the prostate, feeling it blossom with need under his caress.

Hannibal twisted and cried out. His head thumped softly against the desk as he locked his hands around the smooth edge and thrust back against Will's hand. A low growl rumbled from his chest, urging Will's hand faster, harder.

“Yes, Will, yes.” He chanted in a strangled voice.

Will bent and spit just above his fingers, watching as the moisture drained down the cleft and into the opening. He pursed his lips in concentration as he added a third finger. The puckered hole stretched to accommodate, so flushed and pink like a tender flower. Will hummed in satisfaction as Hannibal lurched against the desk, groaning and panting through the ache of being forced open.

Courage bolstered, Will slid his hand up the curve of Hannibal's spine and sank his fingers into the hair at his nape. Hannibal whimpered as Will's fist closed around the hair, pulling at the delicate roots and tilting his head up from the desk.

“I want to hear you say it.” Will whispered.

“Say what?” Hannibal panted. He winced as Will landed his fingers hard against the prostate, “Will, please. Tell me what you want. I'll say it.”

“Say that you want this.” Will growled, breathing hot against Hannibal's ear, “That you want me to fuck you.”

“Yes, yes!” Hannibal cried.

His body writhed as Will pumped his fingers in a short but deep rhythm that kept them riding persistently against Hannibal's prostate.

“Yes, I want you ...” He choked on saliva and swallowed back a moan, “I want you to fuck me.”

Will released his hair with a shove, letting Hannibal's head fall back down against the desk. His cheekbone landed with a smack, but his whimper was one of pleasure rather than pain.

Will withdrew his fingers at an agonizing pace, letting Hannibal feel every inch become a gaping, aching void. Will settled his fingers on Hannibal's ass cheek, gazing with hazy, lustful eyes at the opening which was now stretched open for him. Hannibal shuddered and cast an eager gaze over his shoulder. His hair was a mess across his forehead, the edges clinging damp to his skin with perspiration. The color glowed high on his cheeks, and the plush set of his lips begged for Will to ravage him.

Will slowly bent to deposit a gout of saliva over the soft, gaping hole. Hannibal shivered and offered a small moan. His hips arched toward Will in a needy tremble, so ready. Will smiled tightly as he smeared the saliva over and into the opening. It came as a pleasant surprise to him that Hannibal was willing to be so submissive when he exuded control in all things in daily life. The power that filtered through Will's veins at this revelation made his head light and drugged with a need to destroy the last vestiges of the immaculate, authoritative facade.

He smeared fresh saliva over his cock and directed the head the wet, pink opening. A tremble rippled through him at the first touch. Hannibal skin was hot and soft against his aching cock, urging climax much too soon. He bit down hard on his lower lip as he slowly pushed his way inside, holding back the tide of pleasure that consumed him.

“Oh god.” Hannibal moaned. His hand smacked loudly against the desk as he grappled for support.

His body arched and stiffened as Will's hips came in languid thrusts against him. With only a few thrusts, Will had filled him with cock and their body rested against one another, joined at the deepest, most intimate point. Will grabbed onto Hannibal's hips with bruising force, ignoring the fact that Hannibal could feel him trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. His cock rested inside Hannibal to the hilt, and deep in that warm, soft clench, he felt the pressure of the last, agonizing week begin to overwhelm him.

“Will, please.” Hannibal panted.

He pulsed his hips back against Will, urging for movement, begging for Will to fuck him.

Will drew back carefully, watching with wide-eyed fascination as the thick girth of his cock slid slickly from Hannibal's clenched hole. As if pulled by an invisible force, he thrust back inside to feel the thrilling clamp of Hannibal's body around him when he reached the deepest point.

“Oh god ...” He gave a wavering moan and squeezed his eyes shut against the swell of prickling orgasm.

Two thrusts and he was ready to come; control was slipping rapidly from his grasp, and he didn't have the slightest urge to stop it. He wanted to come, buried deep inside Hannibal, and stuff him full of release. He wanted to see the look on Hannibal's face when he felt the cum gushing inside him.

“Will, Will ...” Hannibal's raspy groan broke through his raging thoughts.

He opened his eyes.

Hannibal looked over his shoulder at Will, all huge, dark eyes and pouting lips; not a hint of the refined, meticulous psychiatrist that had brought them to this point.

“Will, fuck me.” He moaned.

With a growl, Will planted a hand on Hannibal's back, the other on his hip. He broke into a fast, driving pace, his hips slapping in a wet, hungry rhythm against Hannibal's ass. Hannibal cried out, his knuckles white around the edge of the desk, his head coming back in an expression of paralyzing pleasure.

Will thrust with abandon, enamored of the slap of flesh and the tiny, weak moans coming from Hannibal's mouth. Enthralled by the the clench of muscle around his cock, and the delicious friction that thrilled a hint of orgasm along every inch of his cock. He was grinding against Hannibal's prostate, aware that Hannibal's moans were laced with pain, satisfied that he was all but fucking Hannibal in two with nothing but saliva to ease the friction.

He didn't stop until he felt the sudden, seizing swell of orgasm, and here, he pulled out abruptly to grip the base of his cock.

“Fuck, I'm going to come.” He panted.

He leaned over Hannibal's trembling body and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tide of pleasure that coiled in his belly.

“I didn't say stop.” Hannibal rasped, casting a petulant glare over his shoulder, “Get inside me, Will.”

“I want to fuck you all night.” Will whispered, “We just started.”

“We can do it again later.” Hannibal said, dragging his tongue across his lips, “Now, fuck me, and don't stop until you come.”

Will didn't entirely process Hannibal's remark until he was buried inside him once more. He pushed his hips hard at Hannibal's ass, drawing a stilted moan from Hannibal's lips.

“Did you say we can do it again?”

Hannibal pushed up onto his elbows and reached back to pull Will against him. “Yes, I did. Now finish.”

Will slipped his hand around Hannibal's throat, pulling Hannibal up against him. Hannibal braced himself on the edge of the table, and rose on his toes to keep Will firmly inside him.

“This office isn't an ideal place to fuck you five more times tonight.” Will whispered against Hannibal's throat.

“I would suggest my place, since we'll be fending off dogs are yours.” Hannibal murmured, sliding his gaze over to view Will from the corner of his eye.

“That makes sense.” Will said, his voice muffled against Hannibal's skin.

He pumped his hips in a lazy circle against Hannibal's ass, and was rewarded with a moan vibrating from Hannibal's throat and into Will's palm. He tightened his grasp on Hannibal's neck, dragging it a bit to the side to open up the stretch of skin just above his shoulder. He sank his teeth down there, biting only for a moment before clamping his lips around the skin in a long, hard suck. Hannibal shuddered, uttering a quiet moan of satisfaction. He reached back to grasp Will's ass cheek, and squeezed as Will thrust against him.

The thrusts came in short, shallow bursts in their standing position, and this time, Will let the pleasure build back up in a slow, steady burn. He paid special attention to Hannibal's neck, biting and sucking from jawline to shoulder, and leaving behind a track of red and purple suck marks. It pleased him to think Hannibal would be struggling to cover the numerous hickeys for days to come while he sat across from patients, offering sage advice.

It wasn't until he felt the pleasure reaching unbearable height that he drew back, leaving Hannibal neck wet and swollen, and his hole thoroughly fucked. He leaned hard against the desk as Will pulled out, and gave a low growl.

“I told you not to stop.” He panted, managing a bossy tone despite the abject need strangling him.

“Turn around.” Will ordered.

Hannibal turned slowly, his nostrils flaring in frustration. His cock stood hard and pulsating red against his belly, matched only by the flaming hickeys marking his neck. His lips pouted as Will assessed him, focusing smugly on his rock hard, dripping erection.

“Will you continue to torment me?” He said, his voice husky from moaning and from need.

“Lay back on the desk.” Will said, waving a finger toward to the uncluttered surface.

Hannibal swallowed hard. He moved suddenly when Will stepped toward him, falling back against the desk as if pushed. Will grabbed his ankles and pushed Hannibal's legs up against his sides, leaving him entirely exposed. Hannibal uttered a quiet gasp as Will grabbed him by the hips and pulled him forward to the edge of the desk. He added more saliva with a swipe his fingers and pushed his cock back into Hannibal's body with a harsh thrust.

Hannibal groaned, his head tilting back in pleasure. An errant hand knocked a pencil and unfinished drawings off the edge of the desk as Will resumed a deep, steady rhythm against him. His back arched, stretching skin taut across his rib cage His belly trembled with need, anointed by a slow stream of pre-cum that squeezed from the tip of his flexing cock. The head rose swollen and red past foreskin, all but bursting with orgasm that Will dangled before him. His legs trembled and threatened to stretch around Will's waist, but Will's hands clamped down on the undersides of his thighs, pinning him helpless to the desk.

Will pushed into a faster rhythm, watching Hannibal's face twist and clench with pleasure every time his cock touched with the prostate. He was consumed by that expression, the absolute lack of the cool, calculating mask that Hannibal wore in daily life. Stripped of all his fine clothing, his psychiatric acumen, and even the most basic control he held rigidly over himself, he was Will's equal. And now that Will held him down on the desk, fucking even intelligible words from him, he was Will's inferior.

Will could have kept fucking him if he'd had the control over his body to do so, but the pleasure rapidly stacked up against him, filling his belly with a warm, tingling sensation that predicted the end of this sudden tryst. He let his hand slide from Hannibal's leg to his cock, stroking hard along the shaft and over the weeping head. Hannibal cried out, his body arching taut from the desk. His hands scrambled along the smooth wood as Will pumped his hand over his cock, wringing the pleasure from him.

“Will ...” He moaned, his voice going hoarse with pleasure, “Will, oh my god ...”

His hand reached above his head to grab the edge of the desk just as the pleasure overcame him. His legs broke from his sides and looped around Will's waist, trembling and clamping around him as orgasm peaked inside him. Will was pulled tight against him, his cock trapped within the clenching embrace of Hannibal's climaxing body. Hot release spilled across Will's hand as Hannibal came hard in a dozen hard spurts. Will gazed at his cum soaked hand, dazed and aroused by the musky smell that reached his nostrils.

Hannibal's eyes slid open, lids heavy with satisfaction. He bit softly at his lower lip and gave a low, rumbling moan that urged Will to finish the final act of their union.

Will broke into another burst of need, thrusting wildly against Hannibal's now limp and sensitized body. Hannibal's mouth stretched open in a wordless cry as Will's pounding thrusts chafed mercilessly against his aching, tender body. His hole offered up one last weak, but effective clench about Will's cock. It was just enough to push Will moaning and trembling over the edge.

Will stiffened as the pleasure rose up to swallow him, this time completing it's peak inside him as he continued to thrust through the wash of tingles and the swell of orgasm. Moans tumbled from his lips as the pleasure surged through him, satisfying the gnawing need that had followed him for days, and emptying him of strength and release.

When the shudders subsided, he slowly pulled out and leaned hard against the desk. His wilting cock was dripping with cum and bright red from the friction. When he touched it, even the slightest touch made him gasp in sensitivity.

Hannibal grunted as he pushed himself upright. He set his feet on the floor and stood unsteadily, one hand braced on the desk to keep himself from swaying.

“There's kleenex by the chairs.” He said, his voice quiet and raw, “I'm going to clean up in the bathroom.”

Will nodded, mute.

He leaned against the desk until Hannibal disappeared into the bathroom. Numb, he walked across the room and plucked several kleenex from the box to wipe away the worst of the mess. He had expected to feel many things, perhaps regret or shock with himself. He didn't feel anything but yearning for more that he couldn't possibly manage at the moment.

He gathered his clothes from the floor and dressed. He buttoned his shirt wrong two times, and almost stumbled putting his shoes back on. He felt like he'd stepped through a door into another place and time. He couldn't bring himself to care about the fact that he was supposed to persuading Hannibal confess to murder. He didn't care that Hannibal had hurt him in the past. This was now – and now was like some strange trip that he didn't want to end.

Fifteen minutes later, Hannibal emerged from the bathroom. He didn't say anything as he dressed, taking the time to smooth the wrinkles in his shirt and create the perfect knot in his tie.

Will sat on the couch by the windows, watching as Hannibal picked up each piece of his suit and put it back on, as if rearranging the mask Will had so thoroughly ripped away.

“Did you mean what you said? About going back to your house?” Will asked, his voice breaking the weighted silence.

Hannibal shrugged into his jacket and drew the buttons closed. He crossed the room to where Will was seat and gazed down at him with a bright, affectionate gaze, “Of course.”

“You don't seem …. affected by what just happened.” Will said.

“Whatever perceptions you might have had about your sexuality or mine are now entirely nil.” Hannibal said, “That wasn't the first time I've given someone else the power.”

“You don't seem like someone who would enjoy giving someone else the power.” Will said.

“Sex is it's own world. It defies the laws of daily life because it strips away our inhibition, our boundaries. We enjoy it the most when we find someone who knows how to take away our vulnerabilities and throw us out of our comfort zone, yet still make us feel entirely comfortable and safe. Often, what a person enjoys in the privacy of sexual intercourse is strikingly different from their day to day routine.”

“In basic English.” Will said, “You're telling me that you _like_ what I just … that you would rather … that I …”

“The first night we were intimate, I took control because I knew you weren't prepared to.” Hannibal said with a soft smile, “You were afraid of what you were feeling. It was necessary for me to be the one to guide you out of your comfort zone, but make you feel safe in your body, and in your needs. But, I'm not greedy. I enjoy giving myself to someone just as much as I enjoy taking that person. Of course, this is only true if I am completely at ease with the person.”

“You trust me?”

Hannibal reached over and tucked a stray curl behind Will's ear. “Inexplicably.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

It took a capsule of Melatonin to get Will to sleep after hours of tossing and turning. He dreamed in vivid flashes of skin and teeth, blooming red against coagulating cream, and Hannibal's face shifting into shadows that veiled him in antlers and claws. Erotica and horror mixed like a toxic cocktail that pulled him awake, delirious and covered in sweat.

He stumbled to the shower and scrubbed his skin until it gleamed pink and raw. Nausea waited in the pit of his stomach, waiting to drop, waiting to wrack his body with disgust.

He stared at himself in the mirror until the recognition and self-loathing separated from his body, and he didn't know his own reflection. He felt like someone else, standing outside his own body, experiencing the regret and disgust second-hand, partially numb and inconsequential.

He knew then what he had to do. Hannibal had awakened a thirst inside Will that was only slaked by the violence Will could do to his willing body, the sexual frustration he could expel onto Hannibal's skin. He was also the object of Will and Jack's investigation. He was a killer who deserved prison or the needle. Will had to find a way to divide his conflicting a emotions, to compartmentalize.

Glacial calm settled over him as he boxed up his feelings and shoved them to either side of his brain. Then, he left the bathroom and picked up the phone to call Jack.

“Will, hi.” Jack said, “What's going on? I haven't seen you in a couple days.”

“There's something I need you to approve.” Will said.

There was a buzz of silence over the line before Jack cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“I haven't gotten anything out of Hannibal.” Will said, smiling grimly at the abject lie in his statement, “I need to push him.”

“Push him how?”

“I need to make him place his full trust in me.”

“Okay ...”

“Hannibal won't reveal himself to me unless he fully believes that I'm on his side. That I share the same fantasies as he does.”

“What are you planning on doing?” Jack asked.

“Freddie Lounds has to die.”

 

~

 

Will drove to Hannibal's house with the darkness clinging to his skin and the edges of his vision. A strange, light sensation fluttered in his chest despite the gnawing desires that poised to the devour him.

Anticipation, expectation. Need. These were the emotions he had put in the boxes in the dark part of his mind. These were the emotions that had taken him down the path of sexual discovery and gratification at the hands of a man he'd sworn to kill. Now, he opened these boxes and let the desires manipulate and control him, let them dominate his better judgment and good intentions.

As they cooked, Will could feel Hannibal's eyes on him, gauging him. A pleased glint rested in the depths of his dark gaze. Will had never been eager to please anyone, but the pride that radiated from Hannibal's expression made his chest bubble with joy.

Dinner was had in candlelight, over conversation of behaviorism and acts of God. The meat melted against Will's tongue, and the splash of wine rested warm in his belly. The raging thoughts and desires which had gripped him before his arrival settled into one narrow spectrum, one goal. Control rested in the steady beat of his heart, and the smooth, cool quality of his hands, like the sleek silver fork in his grasp.

As dinner came to a close, Hannibal rose from the table to clear the dishes. He paused at Will's elbow. “Will you stay?”

Will glanced over, his eyes climbing up the front of Hannibal's trousers, the tailored fit of his jacket, and at last to the expectation illuminated by candlelight on his face.

“Yes.”

A taut smile crossed his lips. “Good.”

Will nursed the last of his wine as Hannibal took the empty dishes to the kitchen. Silverware and china clinked softly as Hannibal loaded the dishwasher. The machine started up with a rhythmic hum.

When he returned, Will had drained the last drop of red wine past his lips. He set the glass down and observed Hannibal with a measured gaze. “You have the look of a man who knows what he wants out of an evening.”

Hannibal dragged his fingertip across the edge of the table until he reached Will's hand. The fingertip lifted, suspending in the air for a few tense moments, before dropping onto Will's knuckle. Will looked up to meet Hannibal's blackened gaze.

“Yes.” Hannibal whispered. “I want you.”

Will lifted his chin. “In what way?”

“In every way.”

Will pushed his chair back from the table, and rose to face Hannibal. The heat between them radiated like sparks of electricity, or the invisible pull of a magnet.

“Last we spoke ...” Will murmured, reaching out to tug open the front of Hannibal's jacket. “... you let me strike you.”

“Yes.”

Will pushed one lapel aside, and reached down to slowly wrap his fingers around Hannibal's tie. He looped the tie around his hand, dragging Hannibal closer to him. Hannibal's mouth hovered inches from him, expelling tiny, exhilarated breaths that were nearly inaudible.

“You wanted to see how I reacted to that kind of violent power.”

“I grow ever more curious.” Hannibal said, his voice raspy with need.

He shifted closer to Will, his hands reaching for Will's hips. Will caught Hannibal's wrist and pushed it down against his leg, fingernails biting into the underside of Hannibal's arm.

“There's a natural progression to things.” Will murmured, casting his gaze up and down Hannibal's wide-eyed, aroused expression. “There's either a deescalation or an escalation. Entropy or progress.”

“In this relationship, we have never deescalated.” Hannibal murmured.

“No.”

“Then we must continue to escalate.”

“I've had time to think about what's happened.” Will said, “To evaluate my feelings for you … my needs.”

“What conclusion did you come to?”

“I'm not afraid anymore.” Will said, giving Hannibal's tie a small jerk. Hannibal stumbled closer to him, his throat working against the noose of his tie. “I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of my fantasies about you.”

“Good.” Hannibal said, breathless, “You have my permission to live those fantasies. Here, now.”

Will released Hannibal's tie, and took a step back, severing the building tension between them. Hannibal took a staggering step back against the edge of the table, discreetly massaging his throat.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked.

Will perused him, noting the bulge of his erection, the flush high on his cheeks. He'd maneuvered Hannibal just where he wanted him, and now, he sank the fish hook through his lip.

“I want you to know something before we continue.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to know who is in control.”

Hannibal blinked.

“I want you to know I haven't forgotten what you've done to me, and how you brought me to this position.”

Hannibal's tongue darted across his lower lip. “Do you intend to punish me for my wrongdoings, Will?”

Will smiled, coolly. “Yes. Every one of them.”

“In one night?”

“Yes.”

“That could be … painful.”

“I think you can handle the pain.” Will said, stepping closer to Hannibal. He placed a hand over Hannibal's chest, feeling the thrum of a racing heartbeat. “What shakes you is the idea of not being in control. Previously in our relationship, you've let me think I'm in control when I wasn't. You were always behind the veil, pulling the strings on all your puppets. Even when you assumed the position of a submissive, you weren't.”

“I told you, Will. I trust you implicitly.” Hannibal said, reaching up to grasp Will's wrist, “I relinquish my control to you.”  
Will chuckled. “That's exactly how you do it. You tell me I'm in control, but you continue to control me. Not this time.”

Hannibal lips pouted briefly before transforming into a grim smile. “You've unveiled me.”

“I think we should move this conversation to a more appropriate location.” Will said.

Hannibal gave a nod. “Yes, follow me.”

Will's hand stiffened on his chest, pushing him back against the edge of the table. “I know where the bedroom is. You follow me.”

Hannibal's eyes narrowed, his tongue working back and forth across the seam of his lips, though he offered no verbal protest. When Will turned to hallway leading to the bedroom, he straightened and followed at a distance of several feet.

Will pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside. He drew in a deep breath, recalling the scent of candles and the tremor he'd had in his belly when he stepped in here the first night. The fear and uncertainty seemed distant now, like an experience from someone else.

Hannibal entered behind him and leaned against the door until it clicked shut. He waited there as Will surveyed the room and the neatly made bed.

“We've come to a critical place in the evening.” Will said, glancing over his shoulder at Hannibal.

“That is?”

“The moment where I must choose my devices of punishment.”

He heard Hannibal's swallow but didn't look back. He sauntered across the room, running his gaze over the vanity, the chest of drawers, and the closet where Hannibal's massive wardrobe hung in color coded arrangement and protective plastic covers.

“I can help you.” Hannibal said.

Will waited by the wardrobe as Hannibal crossed the room to join him. He crossed his arms when Hannibal knelt down to pull a large box from the back of the closet. He opened the lid to reveal an assortment of leather bound objects Will had only seen in porn videos.

He raised his eyebrows.

“I've never built a proper collection, but I've had occasion to purchase some necessary tools.” Hannibal said, “I've never put them in the hands of someone else.”

Will knelt down and looked through the collection of bindings, paddles, and several devices he wasn't sure of their purpose. His heart hammered in his chest, and he did his best to maintain his composure as his fingers brushed over the tassels of a whip.

“Here.” Hannibal said, lifting a paddle from the box and extending it to Will, “I think you understand the basic principle of this one. I think it's appropriate, given the childhood memory you related to me during therapy.”  
Will wrapped his fingers around the handle, and met Hannibal's gaze. “You look eager.”

Hannibal pulled an indignant expression. “Have you ever been hit with something like this before?”

“Not for a long time.”

“You are eager. I am … resigned.”

“Of course it will hurt.” Will said, rising from the floor. He tested the paddle against his palm with a few taps, “But a man with a collection like this likes a bit of pain once in awhile. Don't lie to me.”

“As I said, I've never put them in he hands of someone else.”

Will's mouth tilted in amusement. “Usually you are a better liar than this.”

“Usually I don't give my patients permission to strike me with ostentatious sex toys.”

“Starting to sweat a little?” Will asked, pointing the paddle at Hannibal's chest.

“Of course not.”

“You're going to take it.” Will said, letting the edge of the paddle come to rest against Hannibal's chest. “And you're going to like it. In fact, you're going to get so hard while I'm hitting you that you're going to want to come free hand. But you won't do that; if you do, I might have to add a few more swats with this thing to your punishment.”

Hannibal's nostrils flared, and his lips pursed over his teeth. “You seem confident.”

“I've never felt more in control. Now undress.”

Hannibal's eyelashes fluttered against flushing cheeks, but he obeyed without further argument. His hands concealed the tremor running through him as he took off his jacket, and tie, and worked the buttons free of the shirt.

Will stood back and watched, turning the paddle around in his hand. The handle was smooth wood, the end carved into a bulbous tip for a secure grip. One side was covered with sleek, black leather, the other carved with meticulous, swirling designs. Artistic for a sex toy.

He glanced down into the box, noting each toy and considering it's use. He discarded most of them because what he really wanted to do was hurt Hannibal and then fuck him. Lengthening the encounter beyond those two goals wasn't within his interests.

The one thing that caught his eye was a simple collar with a slender, diamond studded buckle, and an attached leash that was three feet long. Will bent down and scooped the collar from the box, examining it with a pleased eye.

Hannibal threw his pants over a chair, and stopped wearing only his boxers. He intently watched Will observe the leash.

“You could do a lot with what's in the box.” He said, his voice a husky whisper, “I'd hate for tonight to end with a trip to the ER.”

“I know what I'm doing.” Will said, “You're trying to scare me because you don't want to be tied up … Do you?”

Hannibal paused, then smiled. “Do you blame me?”

“Of course I do.” Will said, “You've earned your punishment three times over, and I'm the one in control. Did I tell you stop undressing?”

Hannibal's eyes flared, but he bent down to remove his boxers. Will drew his tongue across his lips as the material stretched down Hannibal's thighs to reveal the hard state of his cock.

Will chuckled. “Where's your self-control, Dr. Lecter? You're going to want to come before I even strike you, and that just won't do.”

Hannibal lifted his chin. “You … destroy me, Will.”

Will closed the space between them while his fingers worked the collar open. He pressed the leather strap against Hannibal's throat and reached around his neck to clasp the buckle. The collar settled against his throat, loose enough to be comfortable, but tight enough to remind him of his place.

“I haven't even begun to destroy you.” Will whispered, giving the leash a pull.

Hannibal's head had no choice but to follow the pull of the leash. He took a faltering step forward until their chests met and their lips hovered inches apart, separated only by shallow breaths. Will pulled on the leash again, dragging Hannibal's face to him. Their mouths met softly, in wild contradiction to the plans Will had for Hannibal. He caressed his lips in gentle strokes over Hannibal's, tasting and savoring Hannibal's mouth before he pushed his tongue past Hannibal's teeth. Hannibal gave a small whine and grasped at Will's waist. His lips pressed into Will's kiss, trembling eager and hungry, but Will pulled him back with a yank of the leash. Hannibal choked and breathed hard, his fingers digging into Will's sides.

“Get down on your knees.” Will whispered.

Hannibal's eyes widened, then steeled with determination. He kept his chin up as he lowered himself to his knees in front of Will. His hands wavered restless at his sides, hungry for skin. Will set the paddle on the desk, and kept his grip on the leash as he undressed down to his boxers. His cock formed a tent in his boxers, a poor showing for his own self-control.

“You want it.” Will said, a statement of fact, rather than a question.

Hannibal's gazed longingly at Will's arousal before lifting his eyes to Will's. “Yes.”

“You're going to have to work for it.”

Will grabbed the paddle from the desk and moved around Hannibal. He let the leash stretch out to it's full length between them, his fingers looped loosely around the handle. Hannibal trembled with expectation for a few moments before Will pulled on the leash, jerking him around.

Hannibal scrambled to follow the pull of the leash, scraping his knees across the carpet for a few strides before going down to his hands. He crawled after Will, keeping his head down to hide the flush raging across his cheeks and throat.

When they reached the edge of the bed, Will tugged Hannibal to his feet.

“Lay down on your face.” He ordered.

Hannibal crawled forward to the middle of the bed and sank to the sheets. He pressed his cheek against the blanket, watching Will with fiery eyes as Will knelt on the bed beside him. Letting go of the leash, Will reached out to smooth his hand over the curve of Hannibal's spine and the rise of his buttock. His hand followed the slope until he reached the underside and squeezed gently.

“Never been punished, hmm?” He murmured, his gaze growing hazy with need.

Hannibal swallowed hard. “Never like this.”

“Then I suppose I'm taking your virginity.” Will said, a smile touching his lips, “Just like you took mine.”

“You gave it freely.”

“And now you display yourself in front of me, petulant but ready.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to form a reply, but Will held up a hand. “Don't fight me on that one.”

“I was simply going to agree with you.” Hannibal whispered, “We've come this far, and here we are, at the natural progression of things.”

“You accept it?”

“Yes.”

Will picked up the paddle and ran the smooth, leather surface in a light circle over Hannibal's backside. “I want you to enjoy it.”

Hannibal's teeth snared at his lower lip as the leather stroked his skin. A sharp breath sucked into his lungs, forcing his teeth into a harsh bite against his lip as Will brought the paddle down against the curve of his ass. The crack of leather against skin split the air, leaving electric need and arousal sizzling in the air between them.

Will watched at red bloomed across Hannibal's skin, forming a welt where the leather had struck the hardest. Fire surged through his blood and into his cock. He could feel himself throbbing already, the desire to fuck into Hannibal pulling at him despite the competing desire to hurt him.

Hannibal turned his face into the blankets and sucked in shuddering breath. “My god, Will-”

A second strike jarred his entire body, twisting the remark into a guttural moan. His fingers latched onto the blankets, bunching them against his face to muffle the sound of pain and satisfaction.

Will breathed hard, suddenly feeling the affect of adrenaline shuddering through his muscles. He planted a firm hand on Hannibal's lower back and raised the paddle to shoulder level. He noted the tense set of Hannibal's shoulders and listened to the moans muffled into the blankets. He enjoyed it all in the few moments before he swung down with greater force than before.

The paddle cracked against Hannibal's skin, jarring Hannibal's body forward against the sheets. His back arched, dragging him away from the punishment, but Will shoved him back down against the mattress.

“That's good.” Will said, his voice trembling with exhilaration. He looked over what just three strikes had done to tender, untried skin, relishing the swelling red. “Pink is pretty color on you.”

Hannibal let out a wavering moan as Will landed a fourth blow across fresh skin, starting a new patch of blossoming red. He squirmed while the pain stung and burned through him, going in for his hard cock.

Will grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his face from the sheets. Bending over Hannibal's shuddering body, he whispered against his ear. “Are you enjoying it yet?”

“The pain is jarring.” Hannibal whispered, his raw and hurried, “It shouldn't trigger such an arousing response, but-”

Will held Hannibal head against his shoulder as he swung with the paddle. He watched the paddle strike, then switched his gaze to Hannibal's twisted expression. The pain was clear on his face, but the need vied for room on his grimacing lips and into the wide, moist quality of his eyes.

“Are you … enjoying yourself?” Hannibal asked between pants.

“More than you could imagine.”

“You're not giving it your all.” Hannibal whispered, casting a glance up at him. “Why don't you put your back into it?”

Will's eyes narrowed. “You want it harder?”

“Don't you want to see me well and truly punished?”

“Yes. Maybe more than I want to fuck you.”

“Then yes, I want it harder.”

Will drew back, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Fuck.”

Hannibal's body lay splayed before him, compliant and red with the impact of leather. It was surreal in that Will hadn't thought this could ever happen. And here he was, not taking full advantage.

Will put his hand back on Hannibal's spine as the sudden, dizzying power surged to his head. He gripped the paddle with new purpose and raised it in the air. He enjoyed the tense moments of anticipation, the clench of Hannibal's muscle and tilt of his head into the sheets, before he brought the paddle down with force. A loud crack broke the silence. The pain wrung a whimper from Hannibal's lips, but he lay still in prostrate position under Will's domineering hand. Red broke fresh and darker across the skin, instantaneous bruising.

Blinded with power and need, Will struck with the paddle half a dozen more times, hardly pausing between strikes. The silence between each crack was punctuated by a muted grunt of pain or a wavering cry of shock and pain. Hannibal's knuckles blanched around the sheets, anchoring himself in place under the white-hot pain and passion of Will's strikes.

Will paused when he lost count between the spankings. He sat back for a moment, breathing heavily in wild exhilaration and throbbing need. His cock stood hard, purple with pumping veins, and leaking at the tip against his trembling belly. He thought of mounting Hannibal with his trembling hands and raw ass, and had to press a hand around the base of his cock to quell the rush of arousal.

“That was … good.” Hannibal choked out, lifting his flushed face from the sheets.

“No, that was just for drugging me and inflaming my encephalitis.” Will said, “This is for framing me.”

Unprepared, Hannibal gave a sharp cry of pain as Will brought down the paddle on his already raw, aching flesh. The strikes rained down on him in quick succession, layering pain on top of pain, on top of chafed, red skin.

Will pressed his hand into Hannibal's back, grunting his satisfaction with every measured strike. Hannibal's body bucked every time the paddle came down, his hips tilting and squirming against the pain in the most satisfying fashion. Will bit at his lower lip, fighting back the need to abandon all control and fuck Hannibal senseless. He wanted to make this last longer; he wanted to keep hearing Hannibal's pathetic little moans as he was spanked like wayward child – just like the bully of Will's memory.

When at last he did stop, Hannibal's flesh was bright red and raw in places, some of the welts forming in purple bruises that wouldn't fade quickly. Hannibal sank down against the sheets, breathing hard into the satin material. Sweat glistened between his shoulder blades and at his hairline.

He turned his face from the sheets to look up at Will with moist, blinking eyes. His jaw worked against the pain searing through him, and his cheeks glowed luminescent pink.

“How do you feel?” He asked, voice throaty and paper thin.

“Better.”

Will tilted his head as he ran gentle fingertips over punished skin. The flesh was warm with friction, tender with pain. Hannibal drew in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Take your fill.” Hannibal groaned, “I want you to be … entirely gratified.”

Will flexed his fingers around the handle of the paddle. “How much more of this can you take?”

“I can take as much as you need.”

Will bit into his lower lip to quell a groan of pleasure. He lay Hannibal to waste, and yet he asked for more.

Will smoothed a hand over Hannibal's ass, then to the curve of his spine, following the gentle caress with a swing of the paddle.

Hannibal gave a wavering moan. His fingers clawed into the sheets, holding his aching body still as Will raised the paddle again. He looked over his shoulder, eyelids fluttering in anticipation and half-lucid desire as the leather hissed through the air to meet with his skin. The impact created a clean crack, sending fresh pain into his already raw skin.

“W-will ...” He gasped.

His hips rose from the sheets, taunting Will with resilience despite the punishment. His eyes gleamed desire for more, holding Will in their thrall as Will cocked his arm back.

Their eyes connected as Will swung with devastating force. Will's eyes brimmed frustration and need and violence, Hannibal's answering with steely determination and painful pleasure.

Hannibal's cry spilled into the air as his body lurched forward under the force of the blow. He panted through the burning pain, and choked out a response, “Unchain your passions, Will. Let them flow through you-”

“I know what I need.” Will hissed.

He grabbed onto the leash and yanked Hannibal's head up from the sheets. Hannibal followed the pull of the collar, scrambling up from the sheets to face Will.

“Are you satisfied?” He whispered in a ragged voice, “Have I been punished thoroughly?”

“You're asking me that because you think you deserve more, or because you think _I_ think you deserve more.

“ Be honest. That's all you want to punish me for?” Hannibal murmured, dragging his tongue across his lips.

Will wrapped his hand around the leash, shortening it's length to inches, and dragging Hannibal's face closer to his. “I could keep you face down in the sheets all night and you would take every strike, every bit of pain, because you would still be winning.”

“How would I be winning?”

“All you've ever wanted is to make me enjoy violence – just the way you enjoy violence. The longer you lay here absorbing the blows and watching me enjoy your pain the more you are proven right.”

“But you do enjoy it, Will.”

“I've done what's just. I've punished you for your trespasses, but to hurt you any more than that would be wrong.”

“So, you've found a way to justify being aroused by my pain.”

“You deserved it.”

Hannibal's fingers snaked between them and wrapped around Will's cock bursting against the seams of his boxers.

“And you enjoyed it, just as you enjoyed seeing that childhood bully punished.”

Will bit back a moan as Hannibal's hand caressed the length of him, massaging cotton into his aching skin and drawing the need to it's peak.

“Not just as. More than.”

With a pull on the collar, Will directed Hannibal's head down to his burgeoning crotch. Hannibal dipped his fingers under the elastic waistband of Will's boxers and drew the material away from his erection. Will gasped softly as first air, then the velvet, warmth of Hannibal's tongue touched the head of his cock. The boxers clung to his thighs as Hannibal abandoned them for a grip on the base of Will's cock. His hand was firm and warm, turning Will's cock to his mouth. Will pulled on the leash as his control slipped away under the lap of Hannibal's tongue. His body melted into a pool of need and arousal, his focus diminishing to the the hot, wet caress of Hannibal's mouth against him.

“Oh, God ...” Will moaned.

He sank his fingers into Hannibal's hair, shoving Hannibal's head down over his cock. Hannibal gagged but didn't protest except for the curl of his hand around Will's hip. His head bobbed over Will's cock, eager and destructive. Will abandoned the leash as he fell back on his heels, one hand supporting him against the mattress, the other wrapped around Hannibal's hair.

The leash trailed between Hannibal's shoulder blades, black and glinting against smooth, pale skin. The handle rested over his tailbone, just where the red and purple marks of Will's violent abandon began to show.

“Oh my god.” Will cried.

The pleasure rose to an ache inside him, fostered by the warm suckle of Hannibal's mouth. He pulled at Hannibal's hair in languid attempts to ease the approach of orgasm, the undoing of his control.

“Fuck.” Will grunted, “Stop. Hannibal, stop.”

Hannibal's mouth released Will's cock with a wet pop, leaving an ache and a sting on Will's cock head. He drew back, eyes a light with mischief, lips curving in satisfaction. Will's cock dribbled with saliva and pre-cum, and pumped with full, aching veins. He was ready to burst.

Will rose to his knees, trembling and breathing hard. He grabbed Hannibal's collar, and threw all his weight into pushing Hannibal down against the sheets. Hannibal landed against the pillows with Will on top of him, half-straddling him, hands wrapped around his throat.

“You seem to forget your place in this situation.” Will whispered.

Hannibal stretched his neck under Will's grasp, his lips curling back. He grunted after a moment of struggling in vain, and relaxed against the pillow. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to fuck you.”

Hannibal's throat worked against Will's hands despite the calm quality of his gaze.

“You liked it so much last time.”

“I did. The experience was superb.” Hannibal whispered.

“Good. I'm going to fuck you so hard that between my cock and the spanking, you won't be able to sit tomorrow, much less walk in a straight line.”

The corner of Hannibal's mouth twitched in a smile. “Do your best.”

Will released Hannibal's throat. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and went to the nightstand a few feet away. He rummaged through the drawer until he found the lube, bypassing the box of condoms.

“I think we're past the point of protecting ourselves.”

“Yes, it should be intimate.” Hannibal said, “Our flesh melting and melding into one.”

“Inseparable?”

“Don't you find your mind becoming woven with mine? Thinking as I do? Imagining the world as I do?”

“Becoming like you.” Will murmured, crawling onto the bed to where Hannibal lay, “But more than anything, wanting you.”

Hannibal's thighs parted to accept Will between them. His hands lay limp above his head, and the leash like a snake down his chest and belly. His cock, engorged and dusky next to the slender strip of leather, throbbed, eager to be just as bound and aching at his throat.

“You told me you dreamed of hurting me.” Hannibal whispered, “Yet, I see the truth reflecting in your eyes.”

“What truth is it?”

“You don't want to hurt me, or manipulate me. Those desires are contrived. On the the most primal level in your brain, you are compelled to the ritual of copulation, the most basic instinct of every animal. It's in your nature, Will, just the same as killing.”

“I can't resist you?” Will murmured as he plucked the leash from Hannibal's belly, and pinned it to the mattress.

Hannibal's breath scraped against the tug of the collar as Will cracked open the lid of the lube.

“No.” He whispered. “You can't.”

He lifted his legs and bit back a moan as Will spilled generous lube over his exposed entrance. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the words were stolen by another sound of pleasure. Will swirled his fingertips against the flesh, searching for the opening with gentle prod. The muscles drew stiff the the caress, and a strangled moan pressed to his lips as Will forced a finger inside.

“This doesn't feel the same as killing.” Will murmured. His pursed his lips over a taut smile as he pumped his finger into Hannibal's resisting body, searching for sweet spot that would make his body collapse to Will's fingers.

“No.” Hannibal panted, “It feels much better.”

His body arched as Will pressed his finger in deeper, brushing up against his prostate. His cock wept tiny drips of pre-cum, milked out by the pleasure riding against his prostate.

“I didn't think I would ever hear you say something is better than killing.”

“Killing is power, Will. You know how it feels. This is a release … giving away your power freely and expecting the world in return.”

“The world?”

Hannibal whimpered, his body squirming as Will pressed a second finger inside him. The muscles clenched around his fingers, resisting for only a few moments before accepting the pressure. Will pumped his hand hard, curving his fingertips to find the swollen prostate, the bud of flesh that cracked open Hannibal's pleasure like a knife to an over ripe fruit.

“A world of pleasure.” Hannibal moaned, reaching up to grab onto the headboard. He rotated his hips down against the push of Will's fingers, his head tilting back in a raw moan of pleasure, “Oh, Will ...”

Will crowded in over Hannibal's trembling body, dragging in his own shallow, shivering breaths at the sight of Hannibal coming undone to the touch of his fingers. His cock thrummed against his belly, the tip sticky with leaking arousal, on the verge of climax. Will could have made him come now with only the press of his fingers against Hannibal's prostate, but the primal need Hannibal had spoken of, the need for sex, was much greater than watching Hannibal's face twist to the milking of his cock.

Will withdrew his fingers, and Hannibal sank back down against the sheets. His eyes, dilated and disoriented, fluttered open, awaking from the edge of pleasure. He came back to the vision of Will massaging lube over his thick, throbbing cock, making the purple veins and pink, stretched flesh gleam in the dim light of the bedroom.

His lips parting in a gasping breath as Will knelt over him, directing his cock to the soft, wet opening.

“Yes, Will.” He moaned, grabbing at Will's hip to pull him closer.

Will pushed the head of his cock past the first clench of muscle, and all motion between them ceased. Hannibal froze, his back arched, his face twisted in pleasure as Will slowly sank down against him. Will's head tilted back, a low moan grinding from his throat as his cock slipped past the grip of muscle and the soft caress of Hannibal's trembling inner walls to the deepest point he could reach, the point where the heat and velvet softness made his body erupt in pleasure.

“Oh my god ...” Will moaned.

“Will ...” Hannibal responded, his hand fluttering over Will's straining chest.

Will growled as their bodies connected, one hand flying up to clutch Hannibal's jaw, the other bracing him against the headboard. Their eyes clashed, Will's overflowing with primal need and satisfaction, Hannibal's with a hint of pain and a gleam of shocked pleasure.

Will shifted his hips down against Hannibal, and the tiniest movement made Hannibal's body clench and spark with fresh sensation. He clenched around Will's cock, sucking him deeper and sealing their bodies together in a unified lurch of pleasure.

“Oh god ...” Hannibal whispered, his eyes reaching to ceiling as if seeing the universe flash before him.

Will thrust against him, slicing through the resistance and crushing Hannibal into submission beneath him. Hannibal's legs rose tight against his sides, poising himself open and eager, as Will rocked over him with building momentum.

“Yes ...” Hannibal panted, “Yes, Will ...”

Will grabbed the headboard with both hands and thrust against him, establishing a deep, pounding rhythm that had his hips slapping against Hannibal's skin, and Hannibal moaning in satisfaction as Will's cock worked him all the way open. Will's cock slid in to the hilt with every thrust, the head of his cock finding Hannibal's prostate and wringing the moans from him. Hannibal grabbed at Will's body, his fingers sliding over the swell of Will's chest and the rigid clench of his belly before latching onto his hips. He was helpless to do much more than hold on as Will surged over him, power flowing through every thrust.

Will fucked into Hannibal until the sweat poured down his temples and gleamed on his chest and the orgasm hovered at the fringes of his mind. He pulled to an abrupt stop just as the pleasure began to bubble up inside him, too soon for the satisfaction Will was deriving from fucking Hannibal so hard.

Hannibal gasped in a breath, his eyes dancing with pleasure as he looked up at Will. “Don't stop now.”

“I'm not.” Will panted, “Turn over.”

Hannibal licked at his lips as he rolled onto his stomach. He pulled a pillow underneath him and draped himself over it. His battered ass arched in the air over the pillow, eager for Will to take him again. He glanced over his shoulder, a dare in his eyes.

Will mounted him from behind, hands grasping Hannibal's bruised ass cheeks as he pressed his cock back inside. He arched against the drive of Will's cock, and gasped when Will's hips slammed into his abused skin with enough sting to arouse the pain anew.

“Oh god, yes.” He groaned.

Will snatched up the leash and wrapped his hand around it, dragging Hannibal's head up from the sheets. Hannibal choked and pawed at the sheets, trying to support himself as Will fucked him down against the sheets. His hands slipped from underneath him with the force of Will's thrusts, and the leather bit into his throat, choking him until black encroached on the edges of his vision. When Will relieved the pressure and air came rushing back into his lungs, the surge of pleasure that came with oxygen was enough to make his cock throb in preparation for orgasm.

“Will, yes ...” He whispered, voice raw and choked.

Will didn't pause from fucking him, but responded with grunt of appreciation. He pulled on the leash with one hand, and grabbed at one bruised ass cheek with the other. Hannibal moaned, tossing a glance over his shoulder to see Will bring the hand up. A half-formed moan spilled past his lips even before the hand came down, slapping his flank just where the welts from the leather began.

“You wouldn't tell anyone how much you love this … would you?” Will panted.

The tug of the leash made sure Hannibal couldn't hide his face in the sheets.

Will bent down to whisper against his ear, lips brushing back and forth with the rhythm of his body. “You love to take it, don't you?”

There was only a few second's hesitation before Hannibal whispered, “Yes.”

“You would let me spank you every night if it meant getting my cock inside you.”

“And so much more … Will, oh god ...”

Will growled low in his throat as he sat back up to bury his cock even deeper inside Hannibal. He shoved Hannibal's face down against the sheets, keeping him pinned there with a hand in his hair, as he shifted to a faster, harder pace.

Hannibal's hands batted against the sheets, and his hips rose against the punishing drive of Will's hips. Their skin smacked together, loud and wet, over the trembling quality of their moans. Will drove deep and fast into Hannibal's now gaping body, hammering against the prostate and reducing Hannibal to a whimpering mess of need and dripping arousal. His cock lay trapped underneath him, hard as a rock and aching for release, but he did not dare move to touch himself as Will rutted into him with an air of relentless power.

Will squeezed his eyes shut as pleasure swelled in his belly. It was warm and uncontrollable, the tingles spreading through his chest and into cock. This time, he surged toward the sensation, letting it control him, letting his body move by instinct alone as his mind divided from the action to focus solely on the pleasure.

Everything else faded as the orgasm swelled to it's summit. The spasms broke free inside him, clenching his body over and over again as the pleasure spilled through him and out of him. He felt it's force through every inch of his body, but the contractions squeezing and milking his cock were the ones that tore the moans from his stiffened lips. He felt the release inside Hannibal, felt it swell around his cock as he continued to impale Hannibal's pliant hole, felt spill out in excess and drip down his draining balls.

He opened his eyes just as the pleasure began to faded, and watched as his body trembled against Hannibal's, expelling the last of the spasms and milky release. Hannibal's ass arched tautly over the pillow, and his fingers wrapped stiff around sections of the sheets. As Will withdrew, his hole trembled and clenched, overflowing with Will's copious release. His dark, satisfied eyes peeked over his shoulder at Will.

Will drew in a deep breath and sank back on his heels. His cock lapsed against his thigh, slick with release and lube, going down slowly, stubbornly eager for more.

“Turn over.” Will said. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, ragged and high with pleasure. “Show me.”

Hannibal rolled onto his back, his eyes pinned to Will's as his rigid, throbbing cock came into view. He arched and parted his legs, giving Will a glorious view of swollen balls and puffy, dripping hole.

“Show me.” Will repeated, putting a hand on his ankle.

Hannibal lower his hand, but paused just before he reached his cock. He glanced at Will with fluttering eyelashes, asking permission.

Will nodded. “Yes, I want you to show me. Show me how you touch yourself when you're thinking about me when you're alone in this bed.”

Hannibal flushed, his lips parting in a quiet gasp. His fingers wrapped around his cock, pulling along the length until he reached the head. He toyed with the foreskin for a moment, his lips tucking under his teeth. Will swallowed hard as he rubbed the foreskin back from the head, revealing pink skin and the slit wet with pre-cum.

Will's hand moved up Hannibal's ankle to his calf, gripping the muscle as Hannibal's hand tightened around his cock. They both moaned when Hannibal's fist sank down the shaft, stretching the foreskin down to let the swollen head peek out.

“Fuck.” Will whispered. His heart pounded against his rib cage, and fresh desire swirled in his belly. His recently drained cock twitched in a valiant attempt to respond to the stunning visuals.

Hannibal stroked at his cock with one hand, and reached down to touch his balls with the other. Long, slender fingers climbed over the swollen flesh, finding the tender spots and rolling them against his palm. He moaned, tilting his head back as the pleasure swelled to his touch. He dragged his palm up against his balls, gathering them at the base of his cock as he slid his other hand down to meet them. He took his cock with both hands, releasing his now aching balls, and climbing back to the tip of his cock where liquid leaked past the hood of foreskin.

Will pressed a hand to his mouth, muffling a moan. Need thrummed fresh and vibrant through his body, heat pooling again in his balls. His cock twitched, half erect and fighting for more. His hand trembled as he reached down to touch himself, gasping into his palm when the tender flesh screamed with sensitivity.

Hannibal's eyes slipped open to look at him, raking up and down Will's trembling body as he rubbed his thumb over foreskin, stretching it back and forth against his cock head.

“Are you going to climax again?” He asked, gazing at Will's rising cock.

“I think so.” Will whispered, dragging his hand down the throbbing shaft, “You make me so ...”

“Desperate?”

Will bit at his lower lip. “Fuck … yes.”

“Come here.”

Will considering arguing the command as he had entered the bedroom in absolute control. The consideration lasted barely seconds before the sight of Hannibal stroking himself dragged him in like a fish on a line. He stumbled across the sheets and over Hannibal's body. Straddling Hannibal's thighs, he thrust his hips forward until their cocks met. The hard and soft texture of Hannibal's cock rubbing against him fostered the pleasure lurking inside him to come to bear on him fully. Blood rushed into his cock, bringing him to complete hardness as they rubbed against each other.

Hannibal reached up to clutch the back of his head. Their eyes met briefly before Hannibal tugged Will's head down to meet his kiss. Their lips met, wet and ravenous, biting at each other as much as they caressed. Will all but forgot about his anger, the punishment, the leash; he lost himself in the kiss, a kiss that carried so much passion, need, and love that it made him lose his desire for pain.

He gave no fight as Hannibal rolled them across the sheets, pinning Will underneath him. The kiss broke for mere seconds in the transition, but Will lifted his head to latch onto Hannibal's mouth again. Hannibal sucked across his lower lip as he grabbed Will's wrists and pinned them against the mattress. He thrust over Will, rubbing their cock against one another until the friction made Will gasp and pull away.

“I need to come again.” Will moaned, fingers raking down Hannibal's chest and stomach, “Please, Hannibal . . .”

“You're begging me.”

Will twisted underneath him, cock searching for the caress of Hannibal's. He pouted, falling back against the sheets when Hannibal refused to touch him again.

“Answer me.” Hannibal ordered.  
Will's nostrils flared, frustration and need warring for control in his brain. He'd come here tonight wanting to show Hannibal who was in control; now, pinned underneath Hannibal, with his cock hard and his body overworked, he couldn't think of anything but release. Release at Hannibal's hand.

“Yes.” Will whispered.

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes.” Will ground out, meeting Hannibal's expectant gaze with a petulant one of his own. “Yes, I'm … I'm begging you.”

Hannibal sat back against Will's thighs, a smile on his lips. He unbuckled the collar on his leash and tossed it over the side of the bed. He lifted his chin and rubbed his throat where the collar had chafed, a gleam of victory in his eyes.

“I hate you.” Will whispered.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“I'm about to make you come again. Better than you can imagine.”

“I hate you, and I want you. I despise you and … I love you.”

Hannibal paused, his eyes narrowing. “Don't let passion and climax guide your manner of speaking.”

“This isn't the heat of the moment. It's how I've felt for a long time.”

Hannibal's tongue tracked a slow path across his lips. He scrutinized Will's honest expression for a moment before nodding. “When you wake up tomorrow, I want to know how you feel.”

“You can ask me then.” Will agreed. “But my answer won't be any different.”

“Very well.”

Hannibal climbed off of Will and crawled to the mattress above Will's head. He bent over Will, guiding his cock to Will's lips.

“Open your mouth.”

Will parted his lips. Hannibal pushed his cock into Will's mouth, and bent over him to reach for Will's hard cock. Will arched his hips up, moaning against Hannibal's cock as Hannibal returned the favor. He sucked down on Will's cock, his hands stroking Will's thighs apart with a few soft caresses. Will melted into the sheets, moving only his mouth around Hannibal's cock, as the pleasure rose inside him once more.

They pleasured each other for long moments, suckling and moaning, reveling in the giving and taking. Hannibal's legs began to tremble, and he sank down, laying them both on their sides, in a circle of flesh and pleasure that didn't end – that Will didn't want to end.

Hannibal came first, his hips bucking against his Will's face, his mouth clamping around Will's cock. His moans vibrated from his throat and into Will's erection, fostering the pleasure that built steadily inside him. Will moaned as hot cum flooded his tongue, burst after burst of release propelled by the spasm in Hannibal's hips. He slobbered around Hannibal's cock and the mouthful of cum as Hannibal turned his full attention to Will's cock. He laid there against the sheets, sucking Will's cock through the languid aftermath of his climax until he was strong again.

Will moaned, still reaching for Hannibal's mouth against his cock, as Hannibal withdrew and crawled down to the sheets to lean over Will's cock. Cum spilled past his lips as he lifted his head to watch Hannibal's mouth sliding up and down his cock.

The last of his control slipped away, and the last of his shame. He could only focus on the pleasure that rose like a tide inside him as Hannibal sucked him down. The idea of punishment was far away; and the idea of working alongside Jack to put Hannibal in prison was nonexistent.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me on [tumblr](http://relentless-fire.tumblr.com/)  
> :)


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